Becoming Daryl Dixon
by Lizziekat15
Summary: My version of Daryl Dixon's backstory
1. Chapter 1

Becoming Daryl Dixon

Daryl's mother is fifteen when she meets Will Dixon. Shirley Watkins was from a working class family, poor but respectable in the small farm town she grew up in. She had two older brothers and one younger sister. Her father worked as a farm hand on a cotton farm, her mother worked in the local shoe factory. The family lived in a house owned by the farmer, neighbors of the other farm hand families. They lived a few miles outside of town, and rode the bus to the consolidated school for the county. They attended the Baptist church in town. Her father didn't believe in drinking or smoking, the children were expected to do well in school and get jobs as soon as possible to help out at home. Shirley was put to work at ten helping clean houses in town with the other farm hands daughters. Family life was quiet and revolved around work and church. Approved activities were through the church-youth group meetings and ice cream socials, etc.

The summer before Shirley's sophomore year in high school, she meets Will Dixon. Will is not from the area, he grew up in the mountains of north Georgia. He is the youngest son of a family with a long history of moonshiners and trappers and hunters. He is the pet of his mother, who overindulges him and makes excuses to his father for his frequent bad behavior. He is twenty-two, wild-frequently getting into drunken brawls over cheating at cards or sneaking around with other men's gf or wives. He and two of his cousins are in town for a change of scenery-having all three fallen out of favor with their parents over their latest escapades. They are renting a small house on the farm over from where Shirley lives and are making a failed attempt at pretending to be farm hands for money to gamble and drink.

Will is strikingly handsome and he knows it-his looks have smoothed his way all his life. He's tall-6'0, lean and strong, with curly black hair and piercing blue eyes. He's a smooth talker, takes care to always appear clean and dressed neatly. In his short time in town he's made an impression on the looser women of the area and never lacks for female companionship when he wants it.

About a month after he arrives and settles into the farm just down the road, he spies Shirley walking into town with two of her friends one hot June afternoon. His interest perks up when he sees her-she's young, yes, but already has the curves of an older woman. He notices her long silky sandy blonde hair and her pretty smile as she chatters away with her friends. He nudges his cousin Hal who is sitting in the shade complaining about having to work in this damned heat and why can't they just go back home and apologize and go back to drinking and chasing women.

Hal breaks off and looks in the direction Will nods in, then turns and grins. "Alright now Will. Now this is what I'm talking about," Hal drawls.

Will grins back. "There's three of them. Get Ronnie and we'll borrow the truck and give these girls a ride," he smirks.

Hal immediately runs off to get Ronnie while Will sweet talks the farmers wife into lending him one of the farm trucks to run into town on errands. A few minutes later Will and his two cousins are pulling up alongside the three girls walking on the side of the road.

"Hello there young ladies," Will croons smoothly to them. His eye is centered on Shirley, and she colors and drops her eyes to the ground. "It's an awfully hot day to be walking -where are you headed and we'll give you a ride?" he continues.

One of the girls, a pretty blonde, flashes a grin and giggles. "Why we're going into town," she says teasingly.

The third girl, a quiet brunette, flashes the blonde a shocked look. "That's awful nice of you sir, but we don't know you. We can't ride anywhere with grown men we don't know," she says reproachfully.

The blonde cuts a look at the brunette. "Oh for heavens sake Debbie! They're the farm hands from the next farm over." And without a backward glance she steps toward the car eagerly.

Will frowns slightly at the sight of the girl he'd been eyeing still standing uncertainly at the side of the road. He shifts the truck into park and steps out to stride confidently toward the girl. "I promise you we mean no harm," he says soothingly. "I'm simply offering you a ride into town so you don't get overheated." And he smiles sweetly down at Shirley. He notices how short she is, he can easily see down the collar of her shirt to the soft swell of her breasts. His breath hitches and he grits his teeth, determined that somehow before the day is over he is going to see those breasts and all the rest of her as well.

Shirley glances up and he sees how close up she is just a baby really, her face just losing the soft roundness of childhood. She blinks quietly and he sees that although she too has blue eyes like him they are a paler blue than his deep blue. Wolf eyes he thinks, and wonders what they'll look like with her lying under him while he's making her squirm. He shifts uncomfortably, suddenly harder than he ever remembers being and has to restrain himself from grabbing her and hustling her off to somewhere, anywhere that he can rip her clothes off and fuck her.

Shirley looks timidly at the truck, then at the brunette at her side. Her face flushes and she realizes that this man in front of her makes her feel like she has suddenly just awoken after a long nap in the heat of the day. She feels fuzzy headed and lazy and wants nothing more than to take this man's hand and go with him anywhere he takes her.

"Thank you," she finally whispers, and Will realizes he's been holding his breath. He nods and takes her hand firmly and feels a shock of electricity shoot up his arm. He acts the gentleman and lead her to the truck and opens the door for her, hands her in and closes the door carefully behind her. As he heads to the drivers side, he hears the blonde snapping at the brunette.

"For heaven's sake, Debbie, climb in the back here and let's go. We're just getting a ride to town," she says impatiently and Debbie reluctantly clambers into the back and off they go.

Will glances over to where Shirley is sitting against the passenger door and grins. "My name's Will. Will Dixon," he says companionably.

Shirley smiles shyly back and twists her hands in her lap. "My name's Shirley Watkins," she murmurs.

"Pleased ta meet ya, Shirley Watkins," Will says cheerfully. "What were you going to town for?"

Shirley shrugs. "Nothing really. Just for something to do," she says quietly.

"Well, if there's nothing pressing you have to do would you like to go get some ice cream or something with us?" Will puts on his best innocent face.

Shirley looks askance at this, and seems to consider the offer. "That would be nice Mr. Dixon," she finally agrees.

Will laughs gleefully. He's got her in the palm of his hand, he's sure of it. He just has to make her sure of him before he can pounce. "Aw now, call me Will. I ain't much older than you girl. My daddy is Mr. Dixon."

Shirley smiles and nods and turns to look out the window. It's only a fifteen minute drive to town, they're nearly there already. She can have some ice cream with this man, and then they can go there separate ways. He really is too old for her to be with, her daddy and mama would have a fit if they saw her. All the same though, it was nice to have a handsome man take notice of her. And he has such nice manners and way of speaking. She can tell by his accent he's from up north, the mountains. That alone is exciting-he's completely different than any boy she knows around here. She'll just have some ice cream with him and then she can go home later today and think about her little adventure.

Chapter Two

Shirley cried softly, on her side, her back to Will. He sighed impatiently and sat up, running his hands roughly through his hair. "Goddammit girl, you're fifteen? And a fucking virgin?" he spat out angrily.

Shirley continued to sob and Will grabbed her roughly by the shoulder and jerked her onto her back. The light was dim in the room but he could see the swell of her breasts and the smooth plane of her stomach leading down to the sweetest, tightest pussy he'd ever had. He should've known. She had been too quick to get drunk on the little alcohol he'd slipped into her soda. Too unsure of what to do when he'd undressed her. And the little gasp of pain she'd yelped when he'd entered her-yeah he should've known but as usual he had been so eager to get what he wanted he'd ignored all the warning signs. Now he had jail bait lying beside him with blood on her thighs from where he'd popped her cherry. Crying for fuck's sake.

Blowing out an impatient sigh, Will forced himself to remain calm. "Well, crying ain't gonna fix none of this. C'mon and get dressed, gotta get you back to your family," and he stood up quickly and began dressing.

Shirley nodded miserably and began dragging her clothes on, sniffling and hiccupping occasionally.

"Goddammit stop that sniveling!" Will snapped irritably. Shirley flinched and failed to muffle the renewed sobs coming from her. Will sighed again and snapped his fingers at her. "Last time I pop a baby's cherry," he sneered. "C'mon girl, I ain't got all night. Hurry up so I can drop you off at your folks."

Shirley stumbled after him as they exited the deserted barn he'd come upon after they had left the other girls and his cousins in town. He had made arrangements with his cousins to join him in an hour or so after he left them at a place in town where they could spend the nights playing cards. The other girls were to catch a ride back home with some other friends they had run into in town. Shirley had already been half drunk by that time from the liquor he kept pouring into her soda at the movie they'd taken the girls to. Will imagined he could drop her off not far from her house and then head back to town to meet up with his cousins. By the time he had nearly kicked her out of the truck by the side of the road and headed back to town, he'd already begun to forget her.


	2. Chapter 3 Consequences

Chapter Three

Six weeks later Shirley straightened up and flushed the toilet and splashed water on her face. She'd been throwing up for three days now, felt lightheaded and was so dang tired that she had fallen asleep without supper the last night. She walked down the hall to her bedroom and sat slowly on the edge of her bed, trying to breathe slowly in the hopes the nausea would pass. Her mother poked her head around the corner and peered worriedly at her. "Are you alright honey?" She gazed closely at Shirley's pale face and her red rimmed eyes.

"I think I have the flu mama," Shirley mumbled tiredly. Her mother nodded and came to tuck Shirley back into bed.

"You get some rest honey, I'll bring you some soup in a bit," her mother murmured and left the room.

When the nausea and vomiting continued another few days, Shirley's mother made an appointment with the family doctor in town and took her in for a check up. Dr. Henson was the town doctor and had delivered the majority of his patients. He was a kindly older man in his sixties and attended the same church Shirley's family did. He and his wife were good friends of her parents.

Dr. Henson had Shirley breathe deep for him as he listened to her with his stethoscope. He asked her questions about her activities the last few weeks, checked her pulse and her reflexes. He asked her to lied down and palpated her abdomen carefully and a surprised look appeared on his face. He ordered the nurse to draw some blood and asked Mrs. Watkins to step into his office while Shirley dressed and waited for them.

Dr. Henson glanced searchingly into Mrs. Watkins face. "Ellen, I hope I'm wrong about this. But I suspect your girl is pregnant," he said hesitantly.

Mrs Watkins mouth fell open in shock. "What? That's impossible. She hasn't been around any boys!' she burst out.

"Are you sure?" he asked quietly.

"Of course I'm sure," she snapped back. "My Shirley is a good girl. She works, goes to church with us every Sunday. She doesn't have any boyfriends," she stammered out.

"Well, as I said I hope I'm wrong. We'll see what the blood test shows. Take her home, keep an eye on her and I'll call you in a few days with the results," he continued wearily.


	3. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Three days later Mrs Watkins got the results of the blood test over the phone from Dr. Watkins. Her face turned pale and she dropped into a kitchen chair, her legs turned to jelly. Then she dropped her face into her hands and began to weep.

Mr. Watkins happened to come in from the outside for a brief break and observed his wife weeping in a chair. "Why mother, what on earth is the matter?" he crossed the room quickly and laid a hand soothingly on her shoulder.

"Oh Martin, our daughter is pregnant," she blurted out tearfully.

Mr. Watkins staggered back a bit. "What?!" he demanded incredulously.

Mrs. Watkins nodded as she continued to sob helplessly. "She's been sick and I took her to see Dr. Henson. They ran a blood test and it came back positive," she choked out, her sobbing increasing in intensity.

"It's got to be a mistake!" her father yelped. "Our girl is a good girl, she wouldn't sneak around with boys like that!" he thundered angrily. "Where is she? Where is Shirley?" he demanded suddenly.

Mrs. Watkins shook her head. "I'm not sure. I think she went over to Brenda's, that little blonde she's friends with, " she sniffed.

"Well by God I'm going to fetch her and get to the bottom of this," he thundered again and stomped out of the kitchen and out to his truck and sped off to his neighbor down the road.

Pulling up in a cloud of dust and spraying gravel, Martin jumped out of the truck and began striding angrily toward the house.

"Hi Mr. Watkins," he heard a voice call and turning he spied a brunette and blonde sitting on a swing under a large tree on the side of the house.

"Have either of you seen Shirley?" he snapped, causing the two girls to look at each other incredulously.

"She had to use the restroom," the blonde quickly answered, her eyes as wide as saucers.

Mr Watkins had a sudden idea. "Do you girls know who it is that my daughter is dating?" he blurted out.

The two girls gave him a confused look. "Dating?" they repeated simultaneously.

"Yes dating. What boy is my Shirley seeing?" he persisted, anxious to get some information out of them before Shirley appeared.

The blonde shook her head but the brunette frowned. "I haven't ever seen Shirley with any boys, Mr. Watkins, but she did go off with that farm hand a month or so ago," the brunette tattled.

The blonde pinched her sharply. "Hush!" she hissed frantically.

Mr Watkins glared at the blonde and approached where the girls sat. "What farmhand is that?" he snarled.

"Why the one that gave us a ride to town," the brunette continued, smirking. Finally she was going to get the upper hand on that minx Shirley Watkins. Every boy adored her, and Debbie was tired of it.

The blonde girl pinched Debbie's arm viciously. "Tattletale! And you wonder why you don't have friends!" she cried angrily.

"I want the whole story, right now young lady. All of it," Mr. Watkins bit out stonily. Seeing the blonde start to sidle off, he raised a hand and pointed at her. "Not so fast young lady. Sounds to me you were involved in this as well and you're going to sit right there until I get to the bottom of this," he snapped and the blonde promptly sat back down, her eyes if possible even wider than they had been.

A short time later Mr. Watkins pulled up in the yard of another neighbor's farm house, a sobbing Shirley in the truck alongside him. He flung the truck door open angrily and slammed it, earning a flinch from Shirley. Stomping up to the house he pounded on the door repeatedly until it was yanked open and the owner peered out.

"What the hell is going on Martin?" the neighbor demanded incredulously.

"Do you have a farmhand here working for you by the name of Will Dixon?" Mr. Watkins yelled.

"Yes, I do. Hired him a few months ago? Why? What's going on?" the neighbor yelled back.

"I want to see that rascal. He's got my girl here in trouble," he snarled. The neighbor shot a curious look toward the truck where he could see Shirley crying.

"You don't mean…" he stammered out nervously.

"Yes, that's exactly what I mean. Your farmhand took advantage of my sweet girl, and he's going to do the right thing by her or face jail or my shotgun by god," he said tersely.


	4. Wedding Bells

Chapter Five

After much protesting on Will's part, and threatening on Mr. Watkins part, an appointment was set with the justice of the peace and Will and Shirley were married that next Saturday in the Watkins' living room. There was no shower, no reception, and immediately after the ceremony Mr. Watkins gave Will an envelope with one hundred dollars in it-money that had taken him a good long while to save up in the hopes of getting his wife some newer furniture for their home-and said goodbye to the young couple. Shirley had sobbed off and on all through the ceremony along with her mother who had begged her husband to find Will a local job so her daughter could be nearby. But Mr Watkins turned a deaf ear to his wife's pleas-he was deeply ashamed of Shirley and angry at the shame she had brought on her family and he did not want her near enough for him to be reminded of it daily.

Will and his two cousins had bargained with a drinking buddy for a truck they could buy extremely cheaply to return home in. Shirley quailed at the thought of being torn from her family, married to a man she didn't know and who seemed very angry and resentful of her, living far away amongst his kin.

Impatiently Will had jerked Shirley roughly into the truck and the four headed off -it was a three hour drive up the mountains to where their kin lived and he was impatient to be off. Will hadn't told his parents that he was coming back home, much less that he now had a wife and would soon have a baby to worry about as well. He sighed heavily as they drove along, shooting a glare whenever Shirley hiccupped or sobbed too loudly. His cousins rode in the back, laughing and cutting up and as each mile passed he grew more and more resentful of Shirley. In his mind this was all her fault-never mind the fact that he had gotten her drunk and taken advantage of her. He had grown up blaming everyone else for any scrape he had gotten in, and his mother had backed him up every time. His father, though, that was another matter. He cringed inwardly every time he imagined facing his father with a pregnant young wife at his side.

The homecoming was as dreadful as Will had imagined. His mother had been furious with him-something that he had never experienced before. His father had refused to speak to him after the initial introductions and had forbidden him entry to the house. Will's aunt, seeing how pathetic and forlorn Shirley was took the matter into her hands and offered the young couple the small house that sat at the back of her yard, nearly in the woods it was set so far back. She and her husband had lived in it when they first married and in time had built the larger home they now dwelled in. It would take a bit of elbow grease but she told the couple that they could stay there until they got on their feet. Then cutting a vicious look at her brother and sister in law, she led Shirley towards her home and the little house out back. Will had refused to go, opting instead to go with his cousins to catch up with their other cousins. Will hoped his mother would relent after she'd had time to get used to the idea that he was married and he'd be back in her good graces again. In the meantime he was going to make himself scarce and let Shirley take the brunt of his mother's ill humor.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Six

The pattern was set for their marriage from that first day. Shirley spent most days by herself in the tiny house cleaning and picking up, trying to make it more homelike while Will spent days at a time off with his cousins drinking and cutting up and chasing women. After the first time Shirley had asked where he'd been and been answered with his fist, she kept quiet and pretended not to notice his absence or sudden appearances.

Her pregnancy repulsed Will, and he stayed as far away from her as he could. Within a short time the very sight of her enraged him and it took all his will not to beat her senseless whenever he was around her.

He was even more aggrieved that his mother hadn't come around and forgiven him. And he was too proud to beg her to forgive him so he stayed away because of that as well.

Shirley gave birth to their son, Merle, one sunny, breezy spring afternoon. She had been napping on the couch when she sat up with a cry of surprise at finding herself soaked -she thought she had peed herself. Will's aunt, who had been keeping an eye on the young girl, heard Shirley cry and had rushed into the house. Seeing Shirley's predicament, she led Shirley back to the bedroom and rushed about getting clean towels and boiling water, etc. While Aunt Myrtle searched for the kit she had made up ahead of time-twine, scissors, swaddling, a few cloth diapers, she heard Shirley scream and rushed in to see the young mother staring at the baby she had just pushed out. The older women rushed toward the bed and quickly examined the baby and rubbed it's back to stimulate it's breathing. At his sudden cry, she smiled and handed him to Shirley so she could go about securing the umbilical cord, etc.

Myrtle noted Shirley staring dumbfounded at the infant in her arms-noting also Shirley didn't seem to know how to hold him. She sighed in exasperation and after cleaning up the mess from the birth she brought in some warm water and towels and proceeded to clean the baby while explaining to Shirley what she was doing and why. She demonstrated how to swaddle the baby as well as instructing Shirley how to know when he was hungry and how to breast feed him.

"What have you thought of for a name?" she asked as she smiled at the handsome little face. "He looks just like Will did when he was born," she added thoughtfully.

Shirley shrugged. "Haven't really thought of anything. It seemed like he wasn't ever going to get here, I didn't want to get my hopes up in case….well you know," she trailed off softly, gazing in wonder at her son's tiny hands and running her finger softly over his cheek.

"Well best you put your mind to it, he has to know who he is right from the start," Myrtle said. "And don't be asking Will about it, men are damn fools when it comes to naming their children. Think of something you like, you'll be the one saying his name most often I'll warrant." And with that Myrtle left to go back to her house and fix something light for Shirley to eat as well as a bottle of watered down milk for the baby. Just in case.

As Myrtle crossed back towards the little house carrying a basket of food for the mother and baby, she spied Will striding across the lawn toward the house. "Congratulations," she cried, smirking at his blank face. "You're a daddy now," she continued teasingly. She had always thought Will's mother had been too lax with him, and her opinion of him had not improved with his behavior these last few months. He might not have been happy to have a young wife forced on him, but he shouldn't have been playing with a little girl like that to begin with. She had a slight hope that when he saw his son he might finally straighten up, but she knew that was a very slim chance of happening. She watched his face closely and saw her hopes dashed when he scowled and cursed and immediately turned and headed back the way he had come. "Will Dixon, for shame!" she yelled after him but he just continued on his way without a backward glance. Myrtle made a decision there and then that she would shame Will's parents into taking an interest in their grandson if it was the last thing she did.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Seven

Merle grew up strong and healthy, a happy baby from the beginning. Myrtle had bullied Will's parents into taking an interest in the child and although they still treated Shirley cruelly they made sure that Merle, for so Shirley had named him after her father's middle name, had clothes and food and a roof over his head. They had moved Shirley and Merle into a small house further down the lane but still within walking distance. They stopped in at least once a week for a short visit and to see that the home was warm, there was enough food and the child was clean and dressed appropriately. Myrtle took care to keep Shirley fed and clothed as well.

Will rarely made an appearance, shacking up with various women or laying out all night with his cousins drinking and playing cards. On the rare occasions he bothered to drop in to keep in his mother's good graces by feigning interest in his son, he was in and out quickly and rarely spoke three sentences to Shirley. Which she was grateful for. Will frightened her, and she felt all alone and overwhelmed despite Myrtle's help. She missed her mother terribly and longed to go visit her. But she had no car, no money, and no one who would take her somewhere to meet her mother.

One morning when Merle was three, Shirley heard a commotion from outside and went to the front door to look. To her great shock and surprise her mother stood by a car out front of the house. Shirley immediately ran outside and threw herself at her mother, crying hysterically.

Mrs. Watkins was crying just as hard and the two only calmed a bit when they heard Merle yelling for his mama. Mrs. Watkins ran toward the porch where Merle was staring out the door and swooped in and scooped him up eagerly. "Oh you handsome boy!" she exclaimed and began to pepper his little face with kisses.

Merle squirmed to be let down, unused to such open affection from anyone. Mrs. Watkins reluctantly let him down and Merle stood staring up at her suspiciously. This woman had made his mama cry. He didn't like anyone making his mama cry.

"Oh Merle," Shirley cried happily, "this is your granny. My mama," she explained happily. Merle's eyes widened in surprise. He looked again at this mysterious woman who was pulling a sucker out of her purse and holding it out to him tentatively. Merle looked back at his mother for permission and at her nod he grabbed the sucker quickly and made quick work of unwrapping it and stuffing it into his mouth. Shirley quickly picked the wrapper up and motioned for her mother to have a seat on the sofa.

The afternoon passed and remained a favorite memory of Merle's-one of the very few good memories he had of his childhood. He always remembered his granny's soft hands patting his hands and his cheeks, the faint scent of lavender enveloping him as she hugged him and her present to him of a little yellow truck was kept in his hiding place until the house burned. For a very few treasured hours Merle got to see his mama smile and laugh and relax while her mother visited.

As the day slowly slid toward dusk, Mrs. Watkins stood to go. She began to cry quietly, and then Shirley began to cry as well. Merle started to sniffle watching the two of them. "Don't cry Merle, I'll be back soon for another visit. Maybe we can go get ice cream, would you like that?" Mrs. Watkins asked and laughed a little at Merle's excited agreement. Shirley followed her mother out to the car, swinging Merle up into her arms to hold him tight as they watched Mrs. Watkins climb into her car and start off. Waving as she sped away, Merle turned to look at his mama. Shirley kissed him softly on his cheek and carried him back into the house to start their supper.

Three days later, Merle watched his mother scream and fall to the floor in hysterics when the sheriff came to the door. Shirley's mother had died in a car accident on the way back to her home, the coroner said she'd had a stroke and drove right off the road into a tree.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Eight

The guilt and anguish changed Shirley and after that day Merle rarely saw her smile. She started to smoke, just one or two at first which eventually led to chain smoking. Mountains of butts and ashes in the ashtrays scattered around the house, the air inside thick with smoke and the stench of tobacco. Hours of her staring unseeing while she rocked and smoke while Merle sat as quietly as he could, afraid of how oddly his mother was acting. Will's parents ignored the situation, telling themselves as long as they made sure Merle had food and clothes and a roof over his head they were doing all they should for him.

A year after Mrs. Watkins died, Will's parents were killed. They had gone down to a small town where his mother had cousins to visit. A freak storm had blown up, with a tornado that had torn half the town up including the house Will's parents were staying in. Will had been devastated and gone on a four day drunk, too drunk to retrieve his parents bodies from the morgue, or to attend the wake and funeral. No one knew where he stayed those four days but when he showed back up he was told in no uncertain terms was he to ever show his face around there again. His mother had put up with his bad behavior, but no one else would. His cousins helped him pack up what little belongings he and Shirley had in their little house and over Myrtle's protests they were carted off further up the mountain. One of Will's uncles, Jess, had grudgingly given up his cabin that he'd used for hunting but now that he rarely went he had been bullied into giving it to the young couple to live in. There was a lake Will could fish in, plenty of game to hunt for, and there was an area they could plant a garden in as well.

At the age of four, Merle fell down the rabbit hole his parents had dug for themselves. The next few years were passed watching his mother get beaten and then himself when he tried to stop his father, nights shivering under as many thin blankets as his mother could scrape up because his father hadn't bothered to chop any wood to keep a fire going in the large stone fireplace, days his stomach growled and he cried because there was no food to eat because his father was too drunk to fish or hunt and no beans or peas or any other vegetable because his father had torn up his mother's little garden in a drunken rage.

His mother had started drinking shortly after their arrival at the cabin and Merle put himself to bed hungry many nights while his mother drank herself into a stupor waiting for his father to rouse himself enough to start beating on her again.

In the midst of all this Shirley found she was pregnant-far from the women he had spent his time with, Will had begun to force Shirley into her marital duties, as he called them, and Shirley had given in after a few exceptionally vicious beatings. The pregnancy slowed her drinking, but didn't stop it nor the smoking. As Merle watched his mother's abdomen grow larger, he wondered in his five year old mind how they would possibly feed another person when they had no food for themselves. He began to worry who would take care of the baby once it came since his parents didn't take care of him. The larger Shirley grew, the more anxious Merle became.


	8. Chapter 8-Daryl's birth

Chapter Nine

Merle's brother arrived one bitterly cold snowy January night. Will had been absent for the last five days and Merle and Shirley had managed to keep a small fire burning and stayed huddled by it in the living room with as many blankets as they could find bundled over them. Merle had scavenged the cabin and at last stumbled on a couple of potatoes grown from his mother's garden and put back in their cold storage room. He cleaned them the best he could and brought one to his mother and they sat shivering and nibbling at the raw potatoes. Suddenly Shirley screamed and Merle heard a gush from underneath her blankets.

"Merle, the baby is coming," she wailed. Merle froze in place. He was only five, what was he supposed to do? There wasn't a phone to call a doctor, no vehicle and no adult to drive it other than his mother.

"What do you need?" he burst out, determined to do everything to help his mother.

Shirley let her head fall back and howled out a cry of pain. "Get some towels or blankets Merle, and a basin of water," she gasped. Merle scrambled to bring the items to his mother. "We need some string and a knife or scissors," she gasped again as she lifted the blankets from around her to reveal a pool of blood and fluid between her legs and all over the floor. Merle gaped, horrified, sure his mother was dying. He started to whimper, but Shirley gasped again. "Hurry Merle, the baby is about here," she moaned. Merle quickly retrieved some string and a knife from a kitchen drawer. "Now, Merle when the baby comes out wrap it up real quick in a towel and rub it's back til it cries. We'll figure out the rest once the baby is safe," she moaned again.

Merle stared anxiously at the form appearing between his mother's legs and squeezed his eyes shut tightly, not opening them again until his mother yelled for him to pick the baby up and wrap it. Merle opened his eyes to see something very small lying between his mother's legs covered in something slimy with some long cord attached to it's belly. Looking at his mother for assurance he draped a towel over the form and gently picked it up to wrap it more snugly, leaving the cord free. Gazing wonderingly he counted the little fingers and toes and saw with delight that he had a brother. His finger ran softly over the baby's cheek and it opened it's eyes and gazed up at him quietly. Merle felt his chest tighten and a tear slipped unheeded down his cheek. The baby opened its tiny mouth to cry and Merle stuck his finger in its mouth. "Now don't you worry, little brother. I've got ya. I'll get ya something to eat, don't cry," he murmured quietly.

Shirley gazed at Merle tiredly. "You're a good brother Merle. That's your baby brother, and it's your job to protect him and take care of him, understand?" When she saw Merle nod she closed her eyes and leaned back wearily. She fervently hoped she'd never wake again.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Ten

Early the next morning the door creaked open slowly, and Uncle Jess peered in cautiously. He yelped in shock and motioned two men who waited by the truck to join him.

"Looks like she's had the baby!" he yelled anxiously. "This damn cabin is as cold as a meat locker!" he shouted frantically as he rushed into the room and knelt beside Merle who sat bundled up with a small form clutched to his chest.

Jess noted the boy's lips were a pale blue from the cold and his teeth chattered as he shivered. "Jesus Christ, they's almost froze to death," he said and motioned the two men to pick the boy up and carry him out to the truck. "Turn the heat on as high as it'll go," he instructed as he leant over the prone form of Shirley and anxiously felt for a pulse. He sighed in relief-there was a pulse, although faint and weak.

One of the men came back in and Jess motioned for him to help lift Shirley from the floor and carry her out to the truck. As they stood shifting her in their arms Jess saw the pool of blood, fluid and afterbirth on the floor and wondered at how either she or the baby had survived the birth.

Jess took the three to the hospital down the mountain in town and made sure they were examined and admitted-the nurses said it was a mercy the baby had survived at all, and the boy wasn't dead as well from starvation and hypothermia. The doctor told Jess the three would be in the hospital for a week at the very least.

Jess headed over to the jail, where Will was being kept. Jess had heard late last night that Will had been jailed for shooting someone in a drunken rage. The other man hadn't been killed, but it was the last straw for the local authorities who had had enough of Will Dixon's antics. Will had expected Jess to bail him out, but was enraged when Jess told him that morning that not only would he not be bailed out, but Jess was recommending the judge throw the book at him. Jess was furious that Will had left his pregnant wife and young son alone with no food and no way to heat the cabin. He became even more furious when he saw the lack of concern on Will's face.

"Your damned mother and all her coddling did nothing but ruin you for any kind of life as a man. You ain't nothin' but a spoiled child and won't never be worth nothing!" spat Jess as he turned and stomped out of the jail.

Shirley and the baby-who Merle had named Daryl- stayed in the hospital two weeks. Merle was out after four days and was given the important job of helping Jess find them a new home in town. "You should've started kindergarten by now," Jess explained one night after dinner. He and his wife, Edith, wanted to find a house in town near them so they could keep an eye on the family and Merle could go to school and have playmates. Jess had had a talk with the judge in Will's case, and it had been decided that Will would go to the work farm for eighteen months and be on probation a while longer after that. Jess hoped that time away from his cousins and other layabouts he ran around with would sober Will up and make him see the error of his ways. In the meantime he and Edith could keep an eye on Shirley and the boys.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Eleven

Jess and Merle found a two bedroom shotgun house on a tree lined street with similar rundown but neat little homes. The yards were decent size, and Jess observed several little boys about Merle's age running about. He paid the owner a year's rent in advance, and promised he would make sure the yard was kept up. When Shirley and baby Daryl were released from the hospital, the house was ready for them to move in. Jess and Edith had furnished the home with cast offs from friends and neighbors and stocked the pantry and refrigerator with non perishables and items for the baby. They'd also scavenged up cloth diapers and baby clothes for Daryl.

Shirley was silent as she gazed around the tiny living room with wide eyes. It was if she'd finally woken up from a very long nightmare. A warm house, lights, running water, and food and neighbors again. She almost pinched herself. As she looked around she began to cry softly. Merle watched her anxiously. Shirley saw his look and smiled. "Oh Merle, mama's crying because I'm so happy," she said softly and gathered him into her arms to hug him. "I don't know how I'll ever be able to repay you," she said haltingly to Jess and Edith.

"Just take care of the boys and that'll be enough," Edith replied, smiling and cooing at Daryl in his bassinet. "He really is such a sweet baby. After all he's been through, such a rough start in life! But there he is just smiling and looking around. He's the sweetest baby I've seen in a long while!" she exclaimed, running a finger softly over Daryl's little cheek.

Merle scowled a bit at this. He already had an idea that he wouldn't be the most important person anymore-he had to share his mother's attention with his baby brother. It made him feel both resentful and remorseful. It wasn't his brother's fault, he hadn't asked to be born. And it was his duty to take care of baby Daryl, but he didn't have to like sharing his mama with him. For the rest of his life Merle was tormented and torn between feeling proud and protective of his brother as well as resentful and angry with him for stealing the attention away from himself. It didn't help matters that Merle was a dead ringer for his father, and now that Will was on everyone's shit list Merle was looked at askance.

Daryl however bore a strong resemblance to Shirley. He had her pale blue eyes, sandy blonde hair which as he got older would turn white in the summer sun-towheaded he was called. And he was a baby and small child that smiled often and gurgled happily at everyone. Wherever Shirley took the boys, Merle heard repeatedly how beautiful a baby Daryl was, so sweet. Women would ask to hold him and pepper his little cheeks with kisses while exclaiming they could just take him home and keep him forever he was so sweet.

Merle learned quickly to hide his scowl and jealousy and pretend to agree with everyone that his brother was sweet indeed. When he looked in the mirror he couldn't help but compare himself with Daryl-his thick curly black locks and piercingly blue eyes just like his father, wiry build just like his father and he often heard the whispers from visitors or folks they met out and about that they certainly hoped he didn't have Will Dixon's famous temper or lack of ambition. Those days he would push his brother roughly away and run off to play with the other boys in the neighborhood. Those boys didn't care what his father was like or worry that he would turn out just like him.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Twelve

Will ended up having his sentence extended twice, each time for six months, for fighting on the work farm and attempting escape. When he was finally let out on parole, he'd been away from his family almost three years. Shirley received the news of his release with tears-life had finally been as pleasant as it could be for a young mother with two young children and no means of support. Jess and Edith had been a huge help to her-when she'd recovered from Daryl's birth they'd gotten her a job at the local factory and Edith cared for Daryl and Merle while Shirley was at work. She'd been able to save a tiny nest egg and planned on using it to buy herself an older car so she could be a bit more independent. Merle was thriving in school and had made friends with the boys in the neighborhood. And Daryl was growing up in leaps and bounds, a bit shy but sweet and always smiling happily. Shirley dreaded Will coming back and throwing the family into turmoil again, but she had no other choice. She had no money for a divorce and she couldn't divorce Will and expect his relatives to continue to help her.

As the day approached for Will's release Merle discovered his mother smoking again late at night after she'd put the two boys to bed. The smell brought nothing but bad memories back for Merle, and he grew fretful and anxious again. Jess and Edith tried to convince Shirley and Merle that everything would be fine, Will had learned his lesson, but neither of them were convinced.

Will appeared on the doorstep late one summer evening. Shirley could smell the liquor on him from the other side of the screen door and her heart sank. "Well open the damned door," he snarled. "I'll be damned if I come home from three years in the Pen and my damn wife won't open the door to me" he yelled slightly louder. Shirley sighed and unlatched the screen door, then jumped back as Will barreled in. "Well, ain't you got a nice little set up here," he drawled sarcastically, casting his eye around the room. "Who's footin' the bill girl? You got you a sugar daddy while I been gone?" and he laughed rudely at the shocked expression on Shirley's face. "Oh don't put airs on for me, girl. I knew you were a whore the first day I met you," he snapped.

Shirley glanced anxiously toward the hall where she could just see Merle standing in the doorway to the boys room, shielding Daryl behind him. "Why Will," she protested timidly, "you know that's not true."

Will raised a hand and gave Shirley a ringing slap causing her to stumble and fall against a chair. Merle came rushing down the hall angrily. "Don't you touch her!" he yelled angrily. Will turned his glare directly on Merle.

"You think cuz I been gone you can be the man of the house now boy?" Will yelled back. He grabbed Merle roughly by the arm and twisted it painfully behind Merle's back as the boy let out a cry of pain and surprise. "I got news for you boy, ain't no one the man of this house 'cept me. And don't forget that," he growled as he shoved Merle from him to stumble and collapse at his mother's feet. Will looked down the hall and saw little Daryl standing wide eyed by the boys room. "And who is this?" Will asked as he advanced down the hall. Both Shirley and Merle jumped to their feet anxiously and scrambled to intercept Will's progress toward Daryl.

"Will don't!" Shirley exclaimed, "that's your boy," she shrieked as Will roughly pushed her back away from the hall.

Merle squeezed between Will and Shirley and ran to stand in front of Daryl. "Pa, this is my brother," he pleaded. "You know who he is," he continued as he pushed Daryl further back into the room.

"How the fuck would I know that?" Will roared, "ain't nobody come to see me the whole time I been away. For all I know yer mama has a litter of whelps by every man around town here. Maybe I should check that bedroom out and see what else is in there," he thundered. Merle backed up, still pushing Daryl toward behind him.

"Ain't nobody here but us two Pa," Merle begged. "I promise." He dug his heels in and tried to keep Will from entering the room, but Will swiftly threw Merle out of his way and Merle lay on the floor crying in pain, his shoulder dislocated.

Will knelt down in front of the little tow headed boy and gazed at him silently. He could see nothing of himself in the child-but he could definitely see Shirley. That bitch that had ruined his life. He watched as Daryl stepped back slowly until he bumped against the wall, his lower lip trembling and tears welling up in his big blue eyes. Wolf eyes, just like his damn mama, Will thought angrily. At that thought, he reached forward and roughly grabbed Daryl by the neck of his shirt and pulled him toward him. "C'mere ya little bastard," he sneered as Daryl whimpered. "Whose brat are you?" he murmured as he examined Daryl more closely. The boy was well built, not lean like Will and Merle but more square and solid like Will's own father had been. His hair was bleached from the summer sun and thick with curls. He was a pretty child Will admitted to himself, but definitely not his he decided.

Shirley had crept into the room quietly. "I promise you Will, he's your son," she began.

Will turned to glare at her. "Shut. Your. Fucking. Mouth. Or I promise you I will shut it for you," he seethed. Shirley shrank back and watched anxiously as Will turned Daryl about roughly, taking stock of him. "Well whoever's brat he is, looks like you've spoiled him. He's like a damn little girl with his sniveling and whimpering. Ain't no Dixon ever acted like that. Guess I need to start teachin' him how to act like a man since you haven't done any teachin' at all," he gritted as he stood and slowly pulled his belt off. Merle screamed from where he lay on the floor.

"No Pa! No, don't hurt him," he cried as he struggled to sit up.

Will turned a fierce look to Merle. "Well now, guess you need a lesson or two as well. Guess school is in session tonight for all the Dixons," and with that he began to strike Merle with his belt, never minding where the belt landed. Merle screamed as the belt struck him in the face, the chest, his back when he curled up to protect his face. Daryl scrambled backward toward the corner but Will caught him and dragged him forward. As he ripped Daryl's tshirt off, he paused and glanced at Shirley who stood frozen in the doorway. "Got any words ta say?" he spit out. Shirley shook her head quietly and Will turned and began striking a squirming, howling Daryl. Shirley watched sobbing, and when the belt drew blood she stumbled down the hall to the living room and sat down on the couch to stare numbly at the wall-listening to her children scream for her.


	12. Chapter 12

The conspiracy of silence started that night in the Dixon household. Whenever any of the three had been beaten too badly, the other two covered it up by claiming the absent person had a headache, didn't feel well, was sleeping, etc. Shirley did her best to hide the damage Will had wrought on his sons with his belt. She wore sunglasses to hide her black eyes and long sleeves to hide the bruises on her arms. Shirley lost her job at the factory because of so many absences due to Will's beatings and she had to apply for food stamps for the family since Will refused to work. He claimed he made enough money in his card games for his smokes and booze, he didn't need to work. So Shirley started cleaning houses for spare money when she could. She resorted to getting the boys clothes from the thrift stores-actually Merle's clothes because his clothes-if they weren't rags-were handed down to Daryl.

Merle fell behind in school because of frequent absences due to dislocated shoulders, cracked ribs, sprained ankles or black eyes. His interest in school quickly disintegrated and he directed his fury toward his father for beating him and his mother for not protecting him toward the other boys in the neighborhood. He became known as a bully and soon lost all his playmates. The only boys who would tolerate him were older and rougher. By the age of ten Merle was smoking and drinking with the older boys and falling into his father's bad habits of fighting with everyone he came across.

Shirley began to drink again and her smoking quickly became chain smoking at night while she drank and waited to see if Will would appear to beat them all, force himself on her in their bed or mercifully stay out all night and leave them be.

Daryl's timidity had increased, and he had stopped talking- instead hanging his head and shrugging his shoulders when asked anything. If he did speak, it was hesitantly with a slight stammer. He flinched if anyone reached for him and began wetting the bed again the nights Will was present. Shirley did her best to hide this from Will, with help from Merle, but some nights Will found out and Daryl was beaten and then thrown into the dark root cellar to learn his lesson. Shirley would drink herself into a stupor to drown out his screams of fear and Merle would slip out of the house and lie on the ground and whisper to Daryl when he was home.

Merle wasn't home often by the time Daryl was six-Merle had started his cycling in and out of the juvenile hall. Sometimes Merle would be gone a month, sometimes six. Every time he returned he was more sullen and less patient or kind to Daryl. He began talking back to Shirley, yelling at her the same way he'd seen his father do. If Will was present, Merle would get a pat on the back and Will would take Merle along to visit his favorite stills in the area. He had Merle visiting the whores he favored by the time Merle was eleven. Merle felt ashamed of the fact that the more cruel he was to his mother and brother, the more his father praised him and the fewer beatings he got. He often looked in the mirror and saw his father's life before him-drinking, fighting, gambling. No happiness, no peace. And then he told himself he was surviving, and when he was old enough he would get away from his family and be the man he wanted to be. He'd take his baby brother away from this shithole and they'd travel together and be happy.

What had happened to the Dixon's guardian angels, Jess and Edith? Shortly after Will had returned from jail, Jess had had a stroke and Edith had sold the house and moved to the town where Will had been placed in a nursing home. A few months later Edith had been diagnosed with cancer, and had died less than six weeks later. With Jess failing in the nursing home, there was no one to take care of and protect Shirley or her sons.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Fire and Smoke

Daryl was playing with some boys one late fall afternoon. He didn't usually play with the other boys in the neighborhood, but today they had been friendly. They were out of school for the day and so had been in high spirits and decided to include Daryl in their games. Daryl hadn't been to school on any regular basis since second grade-his stammer had gotten worse and he had been involved in fights almost daily due to the teasing and bullying he had gotten from the other children. His teachers had turned a blind eye to the situation and he had fallen further and further behind. He rarely attended by the third grade and the teachers reasoned there would be no use in reporting him to the truant officer-he was trash and his family was trash and it was a waste of time to try and help those people.

The small group of boys had been playing football in a park two streets over and although Daryl wasn't sure of the rules, the boys argued over whose team he would be on because he was a fast runner. He also was very good at catching the ball when thrown to him.

As the boys ran and threw the ball, they saw a firetruck and ambulance go up the street, followed closely by a police car. The boys stopped and gazed at each other wide eyed. "Let's go see what happened!" one boy yelled excitedly. It was a big deal to see a firetruck, an ambulance and a police car racing down a street in their area.

Daryl ran excitedly with them, but as they got closer to his street and turned down it he fell back further and further until he was left standing alone as he stared horrified at the flames consuming his house. His house. The firemen weren't even trying to put the flames out, they were just spraying down the neighbors houses to keep the fire from spreading. Daryl's mouth dropped open and his heart started thumping wildly in his chest. He scanned the crowd gathered in the street anxiously for his Ma. One of the policemen turned and started to walk slowly toward him, an apologetic look on his face.

The cop knelt down in front of Daryl solemnly and as he went to touch Daryl's shoulder comfortingly, Daryl flinched and the man frowned in confusion. "Hey buddy, do you live in that house there?' he asked quietly. Daryl nodded silently and the cop saw the look of fear on the boy's face. "Do you know if anyone was in the house?" the cop continued kindly. Daryl shook his head, refusing to believe his mother had been in there amidst the flames and smoke. "Alright then, let's get you into a squad car and I'll take you over to the station until we can find your parents," and he stood and taking Daryl's hand in his led him quickly to the closest squad car and placed him in back.

Daryl saw the other boys turn and stare at him in the back of the squad car. "Is he going to jail?" blurted one of the boys to the cop.

The cop frowned. "Now why on earth would you think that? He's just coming back with me until we can find his parents," he said irritably, glancing Daryl's direction and noting with regret that Daryl was hearing this exchange.

An older boy, one that had run with Merle, began to snigger. "What the hell is so damn funny?" snapped the cop.

"Hell, his old man's either in the drunk tank or passed out in the street somewhere. Don't you know who his daddy is?" the boy sneered and the cop saw Daryl drop his eyes and turn away from the window.

"No I don't," the cop said angrily, "but I do know who your father is and I don't think he'd be happy about what you've been up to lately. Maybe you'd like to take a ride with me as well and we can see how funny you think that is," he bit out.

The boy turned red as his friends began to jeer at him and scoffed angrily as he strode off. The cop gave a piercing look at the other boys. "Is someone going to tell me who this boys father is?"

One of the boys who had been playing with Daryl spoke up shyly. "Gosh sir, his name is Daryl Dixon and his daddy is Will Dixon. He's a bad man sir, my ma says he beats on Daryl and his ma and is no good." The boy colored as the cop gazed silently at him, then gave a short nod and turned and walked to the car. A fireman jogged up and whispered quickly to the cop, causing the cop to look sadly toward Daryl. Then he nodded and got in the car, started it up and headed off toward the police station. Daryl refused to look back as they drove away, his eyes shut tightly in a desperate hope that his mother was not in that house and that he was not left alone in this world with his angry and scary father.


	14. Chapter 14

Waiting  
Chapter Fourteen  
At the station, the officer seated Daryl in an interview room and brought him some soda to drink and a sandwich from the vending machine. Then he left to find Daryl's father, which didn't take long. Will was in the drunk tank having been arrested not long after the firetrucks had arrived at his house. He'd been arrested just a few streets away in a dive bar that was known to the cops. But as derelict as the bar and its patrons were, Will Dixon was still a rung or two beneath their low standards and had been thrown out and the cops had been called.  
The officer who had brought Daryl in sighed at this news. They would have to call social services to take the boy in for at least the night until the father was released and the fire investigated. He called over to the social services office and sweet talked a woman who was a friend of his wife's into dropping what she had going on and coming to fetch the little Dixon boy. She had arrived a short time later and gone into the interview room where Daryl sat dry eyed, his sandwich uneaten and his soda still untouched. Her heart sank at the sight of him. She hadn't ever been called out to his house, but she recognized the look she'd become unhappily familiar with in her years in her job. The boy was unkempt, filthy really, and thin nearly to emaciation. He would be a handsome boy when cleaned up -but unless the father was sent away for a long sentence he wouldn't be lucky enough to be placed in any home. Instead he'd be taken to a foster hall packed with all types of children who were being shuffled around in the system.  
She explained to Daryl that she would take him to a temporary place while they waited for his father to appear in court and be freed. Daryl nodded quietly and stood and followed her silently out to the waiting car. She noted his silence the entire trip-only a thirty minute drive to the next town over where there was a barracks like set up for the juveniles of the county in the foster system. Although she had ridden with some quiet children, Daryl's silence unnerved her. He was so sad, forlorn, hopeless looking that she tried not to think what had happened to make this child so obviously defeated at the young age of eight.  
The caseworker led Daryl into the lobby area and explained briefly to the woman behind the desk the circumstance for Daryl's presence. The woman nodded and waving goodbye to the caseworker she stood and led Daryl to the boys section -set up like dorm rooms to make the setting a bit more homelike. She stopped in front of a supply closet and pulled out some sample size bottles of shampoo, toothpaste, a toothbrush and a towel. "I'll fetch you some pajamas and then you can clean up and get dressed for bed," she said kindly. Daryl nodded and clutched the items to his chest tightly while she went down the hall to another closet and retrieved some underwear, a tshirt and some pajamas she estimated were close to his size. She led him into the bathroom, which was set up like a dorm or barracks with rows of sinks and rows of showers and then behind a wall were the urinals and toilets. "I'll be just outside the door here. If you need anything just call me. My name is Mrs. Burton," she said softly and sighed as Daryl remained silent. She turned and went out the door and Daryl turned slowly around to gaze in wonder at how large the bathroom was. He was used to his small cramped bathroom and being rushed through baths on a random schedule. The idea that he would have a shower all to himself was incredible. He started at a knock from outside the door. "Are you alright in there Daryl?" Mrs Burton called. He nodded and then frowned at the realization that she couldn't hear him nodding.  
"Yes ma'am," he stammered out and cringed at the weak sound of his voice. Sighing he turned and began the process of scrubbing his teeth clean, or as clean as he could get them. He rarely brushed them as a toothbrush and toothbrush were not considered necessary in his household.  
This gave him an odd fear of having bad breath so to compensate he was constantly sucking on mints he managed to scavenge from where people dropped them out of their sacks of fast food.  
Having scrubbed his teeth til his gums bled, he stripped quickly and entered the nearest shower carefully placing his shampoo and soap on the little shelf and hanging his towel on the hook on the wall. He sighed happily when a strong spray of hot water hit him and reveled briefly in the force and heat of the water. He carefully scrubbed his hair and soaped up his body twice and then stood quietly luxuriating in the steady stream of water. He jumped again when he heard another knock at the door and hurriedly turned the water off and began to towel off. He quickly slipped the clothes on and marveled again at the feel of clothes that actually almost fit after years of wearing Merle's ragged hand me downs that were often too big when he got them.  
Daryl hung his towel up neatly on the hook, straightened up any mess he had made and crossed the room and opened the door quietly. Mrs. Burton gazed dumbfounded at the sight of a clean Daryl. His hair was a dark blonde with streaks of white from his time outside, slightly on the long side but thick with waves and curls that any female would envy. He was a slightly built little boy of average height but with the most beautiful pale blue eyes she had ever seen. He smiled shyly and she thought how sweet he looked with that little smile on his face.  
"Well now, I bet you feel a bit better now. It's always better to go to bed after a nice hot shower, makes falling asleep easier," she said approvingly. "Lets get you settled in now and you can get some rest," she continued as she led Daryl down the hall to a room filled with bunks of drowsing boys. She led him to a bunk in the near corner, close to the door. "Now, if you need to use the restroom in the middle of the night just get up and come get me. I'll be out in the hall-I'm the night monitor here," she explained as she tucked Daryl into the bunk. He nodded and thanked her quietly and she patted him softly on his shoulder and felt him flinch slightly. She turned to look at him but he had closed his eyes and so she left him to drift off to sleep and went out into the hall.  
Daryl opened his eyes when Mrs. Burton had left and Daryl turned onto his back, staring up at the bunk above him and began biting anxiously at his thumb. His mind began going over the events of the entire day and he realized that his father had been the last one in the house with his mother if what he had overheard was correct. His father had thrown him out of the house mid morning after he had beaten his mother into silence. Daryl had spied her lying across his parents bed, a red stain spreading on the sheet underneath her. His father had quickly backhanded him and ordered him to get out and stay out until he was called in. Daryl had reluctantly left, not wanting to leave his mother but at the same time not willing to risk his father's wrath and earn another beating. His back was still raw from the previous beating three nights ago.  
His mind ran over and over again the scene when he had left the house and he became convinced that his father had killed his mother and set the house on fire so he wouldn't be found out. His heart thudded painfully at the thought that not only was his mother no longer going to be able to protect him but more than likely he would be left to live alone with his murderous father. He felt his pants grow wet at this thought and realized he had wet himself. He sat up quickly and hurried over to the door to the hallway and peeked out to find Mrs. Burton. She looked up and saw his wet pajamas and hurried over to him. "Don't worry son, it happens to everyone. Trying to sleep in a strange place after all the commotion you've had all day. We'll get you changed and no one will be the wiser," she murmured kindly and Daryl followed her, dumbstruck at her lack of anger over his stupidity. His Pa had beaten it into him that peeing his bed was a girly thing to do and that he shamed his family acting like such a baby.  
Mrs. Burton gave him a dry pair of underpants and pj pants and waited outside the bathroom while he quickly changed then she dropped the wet garments in the laundry chute and led Daryl back to his bunk. Feeling the bed she smiled. "All dry," she whispered softly and motioned Daryl back into bed. She brushed his bangs out of his eyes and patted him softly on his arm, noticing he  
didn't flinch this time. "Go on to sleep sweetie," she murmured softly and went back out into the hall. Daryl's eyes fell closed and he passed the rest of the night dozing fitfully, waking often in panic and feeling the bed to make sure he hadn't wet it again. To his relief, the rest of the night


	15. Chapter 15

What the morning brings  
Chapter Sixteen  
Morning saw Daryl still in his pjs seated at a long table in a cafeteria fairly busy with groups of boys and girls either picking up their trays of food, eating at the tables or discarding the remains and heading out to other areas of the building. One of the boys he vaguely recognized as someone who had run with his brother last summer before Merle went off to juvie for the first time-the boy had taken Daryl under his wing and kept Daryl at his side through the line to get their bfast trays and then made sure Daryl sat beside him at the table with other boys he seemed familiar with. The boy, Wade, was closer to Merle's age but had always been nicer to Daryl than any of the other boys who had run with Merle.  
Daryl shyly glanced around at the other tables of children of various ages eating, laughing and talking and wished he could stay here at least a little while longer. He knew he was wicked to think such a thing-he should be worried about his Ma and be anxious to be back at home with her. Then he frowned remembering again he had no home-it was all gone to ashes.  
Wade motioned to Daryl to follow him and they discarded their trays and headed back down the hall to the dorm. "We gotta brush our teeth and clean up and change," Wade explained and Daryl retrieved his brush and paste from the little shelf beside his bed and followed Wade out to the bathroom. There he stationed himself at the sink beside Wade and began to clean up all the while observing other boys cleaning up and changing clothes. Having no change of clothes, Daryl went to stand beside the door waiting for Wade to finish.  
He jumped when a knock came at the door and a man popped his head in. "Hi fellas, I'm looking for Daryl Dixon. He came in last night," the man said.  
Daryl felt his throat dry up and his stomach began to roll. He started to tremble-his father was here to get him. Why else would anyone be looking for him?  
Wade nodded at Daryl and the man turned and smiled at him. "Are you Daryl Dixon?" he asked pleasantly. Daryl nodded, afraid to try and say anything for fear of stammering. "Well come on with me please. Our administrator here would like to meet you. He meets all our new arrivals," he said as he held the door wider to let Daryl through. Daryl cast an anxious glance back toward Wade but he was talking with another boy. Daryl gritted his teeth and began to follow the man down the hall in a direction he hadn't yet gone, struggling to keep up with the man's long strides.  
They stopped in front of a desk where a rather grim faced older woman sat typing. Looking up at the two in front of her desk she scowled and Daryl shrank back behind the man.  
"Hi Ellen, this is the little boy Roger was asking about," the man said cheerfully. The woman peered skeptically at Daryl and he shrank back further behind the man.  
"Mr. Lyons," the woman began haughtily, "is in a meeting right now." Her voice made Daryl shudder, it was so cold and hateful.  
"That's a shame since I have somewhere I have to be now," the man replied, ignoring her ill humor. "I'll have to leave Daryl here to wait for Roger," he said, emphasizing the fact that he left off the administrator's title.  
Daryl stifled a whimper at the thought of being left with that mean looking woman, but he knew no one would care what he wanted nor ask him. No one ever asked him what he wanted, it had  
been beaten into him not to complain or ask questions, just do as he was told.  
The man directed Daryl to have a seat in a typical reception area type chair-uncomfortable and slippery-and then walked away whistling merrily. The woman turned to glare at Daryl and he dropped his head and concentrated on his hands which were clutched together in his lap. "I want no nonsense from you, young man," she said in a harsh tone. "Do you understand me?"  
Daryl mumbled yes ma'am as quickly as he could, stammering only slightly, and kept his eyes on his hands in his lap.  
The woman nodded and began banging away on the typewriter again, never once pausing to give Daryl a second look.  
Daryl sat as still as he could, which for a small boy isn't very long, and within a short while was scratching, rubbing his eyes, wiggling his foot, jumpy with tension. He jumped when there was a loud slam of the woman's hand on the desk and peered up nervously.  
"I said I wanted no nonsense little boy. Did you not understand what I said?" she snapped angrily.  
Daryl nodded his head quickly and went back to trying to remain as still as possible. Just as he began to chew his thumb to a bloody mess, the door opened and out stepped a policeman and another much older man. They both stopped to look at Daryl and he immediately dropped his hand from his mouth and hid his thumb so they wouldn't see the mess he had begun to make.  
"Mr. Lyons, this is the little boy you had asked Mr. Rooker to fetch," she said sweetly and Daryl had to clench his teeth to keep his mouth from falling open at the change in her attitude and voice.  
"Well, now that's good," the older man said and clapped the policeman on the shoulder. "I'll let you get back to work if you'll call me and let me know what's been decided," he continued quietly and turned to look more closely at Daryl. "Come along young fellow, it's time we get acquainted," he said and motioned Daryl to go into his office. Daryl slid off the chair and hesitantly went into the office, flinching when he heard the door shut behind him.


	16. Chapter 16

Examinations

Mr. Lyons explained to Daryl that he would be staying as a guest of the facility until the investigation into the house fire was concluded. He expressed sympathy at Daryl's plight-father in jail and mother's whereabouts unknown and told Daryl he would be well taken care of until a decision had been made regarding his father or his mother was found. He handed Daryl a handkerchief when tears began to slip down Daryl's cheeks.

Daryl stammered and stumbled through the questions Mr. Lyons asked regarding relatives-no he didn't have any that he knew of save his brother who was presently in juvie. He grew flushed and agitated as he was forced to answer questions about his home life-yes his ma and pa drank. Yes his pa had been in and out of jail since before he was born. No he hadn't been to school for a long time. Yes they often had no food in the house and sometimes no lights or heat in the winter.

As the questions went on and on Daryl felt more and more ashamed of his family and how they lived and wished the man would stop asking him questions and just let him go lie down on that bed and close his eyes. His head was beginning to hurt from having to think about his answers, and the effort to keep from stammering was causing him to start ripping viciously at his thumb again. Daryl realized the man wasn't asking the questions to be mean or cause Daryl shame-he was just doing his job.

At last Mr. Lyons sat back and tapped his pen on the paper in front of him that he'd been making notes on. Gazing sadly at Daryl, he sighed softly. "Thank you Daryl. I know it's hard for you to discuss your family with a stranger, and I appreciate you making the effort to answer me truthfully. It's always important to tell the truth-no matter how much it hurts you or the other person. A person who lies will eventually not be believed even when he's telling the truth because he's already told too many lies. So always tell the truth because it'll get you further than any lie ever will. A lie will always be uncovered. Remember that son," he said gravely and Daryl nodded quietly. He'd already seen what lies could do-he'd been watching his parents lie to each other as long as he could remember and then had seen Merle start doing the same thing to their parents and to his friends. He was sure he would never be able to lie even if he wanted to because he would stammer so much he would be found out immediately.

"Alright, let's get you down to the cafeteria for lunch. You'll be here at least tonight, and maybe a few nights longer until I hear about the investigation," Mr. Lyons said and stood to usher Daryl out of his office. "Ellen, please call down to let Dr. Carpenter know he'll be seeing Daryl after lunch," Mr. Lyons said to his secretary. Daryl turned quickly to stare at Mr. Lyons. "Nothing to be afraid of son, all the children that come through here get seen by our doctor to make sure they're in good health. He's just going to listen to your heart, check your pulse and your reflexes. The normal sort of thing," Mr. Lyons continued, not noticing Daryl's flush returning to his neck and chest.  
Daryl hadn't been to the doctor in he didn't know when. His Ma had patched him up when his father had drawn blood with his belt, she had learnt with Merle how to reset a dislocated shoulder, and had taught Merle how to stitch a wound so that Merle had sometimes stitched Daryl up. Both he and Merle had been bad sick one winter- had spent more than a few days in the bathroom with the hot water running breathing in the steam. He had begun to think he and Merle were going to die in that little damp hot bathroom from coughing when they had finally started feeling better and their father had demanded they go to their room and quit using up all the hot water.  
Daryl had also been warned repeatedly never to let anyone see his back or his legs or his buttocks  
-his Pa had told him if anyone saw those scars he would be taken away from his family and there would be worse things that would happen to him than a beating with a belt. He hadn't thought to ask what could be worse, the look on his Pa's face had dried his throat up so he couldn't speak. The thought that a doctor here would see his scars made his heart start racing so that he couldn't draw a good breath and he began to hyperventilate.

"Why son, what is wrong?" Mr. Lyons exclaimed, concern written on his face. "Ellen, call Dr. Carpenter and tell him I'm bringing this boy right down to his office now," and he hustled Daryl out the door and down the hall, Daryl's breath becoming more strained by the minute.  
Mr. Lyons quickly entered a room pulling Daryl behind him. "Tom, I believe this boy is having an asthma attack," he shouted frantically and Dr. Carpenter came running out of another room and scooped Daryl up in his arms and carried him into a room to lay him on the examining table. He quickly placed his stethoscope against Daryl's chest and frowned.

"Now son, I want you to breathe with me alright? We're going to slow your breathing down," he coaxed soothingly and motioned Mr. Lyons to pull an oxygen tank over toward the table. Dr. Carpenter lay his hand on Daryl's chest and began to quietly and softly count telling Daryl to try and hold his breath and then let it out to his count. Daryl shook and tears dropped from his eyes as he struggled to follow Dr. Carpenter's instructions. Dr. Carpenter kept nodding encouragingly, keeping Daryl's gaze focused on his own while he counted and rubbed Daryl's chest. At last, as Daryl's breathing began to even out Dr. Carpenter reached for the mask on the oxygen tank. Gently placing it over Daryl's face he quietly explained what he was doing and reassured Daryl this was going to help him and it was only for a few minutes.

As Daryl closed his eyes per Dr. Carpenter's instructions, Dr. Carpenter gazed searchingly at Mr. Lyons. Mr. Lyons motioned he would discuss this further later and left to go back to his office where he began to call around to social services in the area as well as area hospitals and the court clerk to have her look into a few things. This boy was more damaged than any he had seen in long while, and he'd be damned if he wouldn't find a way to get him placed in a foster home rather than go back to whatever hell his home life had been.

Dr. Carpenter had made sure not to be interrupted during Daryl's exam-which took longer than usual because Dr. Carpenter had had to repeatedly reassure Daryl that every exam was confidential, no one would know what Dr. Carpenter and Daryl talked about. Dr. Carpenter had been horrified when he'd finally coaxed Daryl out of his shirt and pants so he could document any bruises or scarring-he had seen cases of abuse before, but they had been mild compared to the roadmap of misery he had witnessed on this boy's body. Scars, faded and more recent across the back, buttocks, legs and chest. Burn marks presumably from cigarettes on the chest and back. Dr. Carpenter could only guess at how many fractures of the arms and legs had healed without medical aid, how many times the child's nose had been broken or cheekbone cracked. It was a mercy the child hadn't gone blind or deaf from a wrong blow to the head.

He sighed as he spoke soothingly and reassuringly to Daryl as he painstakingly documented every welt or burn mark. By the end of the exam, Dr. Carpenters hands were trembling with suppressed rage and his eyes burned from unshed tears. This poor child. He was a handsome little boy, seemed bright for all his lack of formal schooling. How different would his future have been if he had had parents who touched him tenderly and with love instead of brutally out of rage?

Dr. Carpenter at last nodded to Daryl that he could dress and then, hearing Daryl's stomach growl and his little face flush with embarrassment, he led Daryl down to the cafeteria and as it was past lunchtime he ordered special plates for himself and Daryl. He motioned to Daryl to sit with him at a table and asked Daryl general questions about school, pets, friends to see if Daryl was as emotionally battered as he was physically. After just a few minutes' conversation, Dr. Carpenter realized Daryl was indeed broken in spirit as in flesh. He watched Daryl struggle to answer the most casual questions, not because he was simple or slow but because he had no self- confidence whatsoever and stammered out his answers as if waiting to be struck for answering incorrectly. Dr. Carpenter thought of all the teachers or other adults Daryl had encountered on a daily basis for years now who had not given him a second thought and instead dismissed him as white trash without looking more closely into just what was happening to him at home. He would definitely speak at length with Roger about what could be done to prevent Daryl from being returned to an abusive parent.


	17. Chapter 17

No Escape

Daryl spent four more days and nights at the foster hall, hoping each day someone would tell him this was his permanent home and he would never have to see his Pa again. For the first time in memory he went to bed comfortably full, having gotten three meals and snacks during the day. He also had cleaned up every day in a shower with hot water and dressed in clean clothes that fit him decently. He desperately hoped that somehow this would now be his life-he hadn't wet the bed the last two nights and was proud of himself for that. Maybe if he could stay here he would never have to worry about that again. He had been given a good warm coat to play outside in the morning and afternoon for fresh air and had marveled at being able to play without shivering in his thin clothes and knowing he couldn't go back in the house until his Pa went out for the night.

The morning of the sixth day, Daryl awoke to a voice he had hoped never to hear again. His Pa. He sat up quickly in his bunk and gazed around wide eyed. Blinking, he realized his Pa's voice was coming from out in the hall. He shrank back against the head of the bed, clutching his blanket to him, his heart nearly jumping out of his chest. How did his Pa find him? Surely they wouldn't make him go live with him again? Not with his Ma gone-he had been told two days ago that his Ma had indeed been in the house when it burned up and he had cried a long time over that news. For all that she had not protected Daryl and Merle from their father, had more and more often sat for hours in a chair staring into space smoking one cigarette after another while Daryl went hungry-for all that she was still the only person in the world that had made at least a minimal effort to take care of him. Now that she was gone, Daryl whimpered at the thought of what his Pa would do to him once they were alone. And where would that be? Their house had gone up in flames.

Daryl sat as still as he could, straining to hear what conversation was going on between his Pa and whoever else was out there in the hall with him. Unconsciously he began to tear savagely at his thumb while he contemplated what might happen next.  
The dorm room door swung open quietly and a woman Daryl recognized as Mrs. Gilmore the day matron peered around and seeing Daryl awake motioned for him to come with her. Daryl began to tremble and he shook his head vigorously. Mrs. Gilmore frowned in concern and crossed the room swiftly to lean down and peer more closely at Daryl.

"Daryl, dear, come along now. Your father and a policeman are here in Mr. Lyons office.."

Before Mrs. Gilmore could get any further, Daryl began to whimper more loudly and tears rolled down his cheeks. "No, don't make me," he begged quietly.

Mrs. Gilmore sighed. She had been afraid of a scene like this. When Mr. Dixon had arrived with a police officer she had taken an instant dislike to him. Loud, smug and insincere-a man who might have at one time been charming and handsome in a rakish way now gone and he was unwilling or unable to accept the truth of what he'd become. Years of hard drinking and carelessness had ruined his looks-he looked seedy and disreputable now. The only women he would be able to attract at this stage were women who were barflies and tramps, long past their better days if they'd ever had any. And this poor child would be returned to such a man, simply because the state didn't want to "waste" money housing a child who had a family member he could be turned over to.

"Daryl honey, there's nothing we can do about it. The law says you have to go home with your daddy. And he's here to get you. The police officer is going to take you both to your new home," she paused at the surprised look on his face. "A friend of your father's has a trailer he rents out that he's willing to let you and your daddy use. So you have a place to call home again," she choked back a sob at the look of heartbreak on Daryl's face. Quickly wiping her face Mrs. Gilmore held out a little duffel bag. "We've packed you some clothes since yours were lost in the fire," she said quietly. "We also put a little kit of soap and shampoo and toothbrush and toothpaste, towels, things like that in there for you." She paused again, noting a dazed look coming over his face and wondered if he was in shock. "I'll hold onto this at the desk for you, you go ahead and get dressed now and I'll walk you over to Mr. Lyons office," she coaxed gently. Daryl at last nodded and straightened his little shoulders and scooted out of the bed. Resolutely he quickly yanked off his pajamas and pulled on his clothes-little jeans and a sweatshirt, warm socks and a decent pair of sneakers. He kept his tshirt on underneath the sweatshirt knowing whatever shithole his Pa had found for them it likely wouldn't be very well heated and he'd need all the layers of clothes he could find to keep from freezing.

When he was dressed, Daryl straightened his bed up, stuffed his pajamas in the duffel bag on the floor and nodded once. "Alright ma'am," he said quietly and Mrs. Gilmore felt her heart drop at the sight of Daryl composing himself before going out to see his father. She said a quiet prayer as she walked him down the hall to Mr. Lyons office that somehow this boy would survive whatever his father put him through and come out of it able to somehow make a good life for himself.

Will had convinced the judge, who happened to be having an affair with a woman Will knew, to let him off with probation. He pointed out that no serious damage had been done to the bar by him, and promised he'd never darken their doorstep again. And hadn't his poor son suffered enough-what with his poor mama burned up in their house, he certainly didn't need to suffer further from a separation from his lone surviving parent. Besides, he told the judge winking, if the judge would just show some mercy and lenience on the new widower with a young boy to raise all by his own self why he wouldn't see any reason to encourage Wanda to go visit the judge's wife. Not with election season fast approaching.

So despite Dr. Carpenter and Mr. Lyon's best efforts to prevent Daryl being returned to his father's custody, Will Dixon walked out of the foster holding facility that blustery fall day with Daryl trailing slowly behind him, dragging his duffel bag disconsolately. Will stopped in front of an old rusty beaten up truck and motioned impatiently for Daryl to hustle it up. He roughly grabbed Daryl up under his arms and swung him into the truck bed and then hopped into the warm cab where Daryl could see two of his father's friends squeezed in as well. The truck took off quickly and Daryl was thrown about in the truck bed. He righted himself and tucked himself tightly against the side clutching his duffel bag to him.

The drive was short, and as the truck pulled onto a gravel road just outside town Daryl's heart sank. This was the road to the dump-the only houses and trailers he'd ever seen down this road were in far worse shape than his own house had been in. Not to mention it would be a long walk to the nearest store for food or anything else they'd need.

The truck swung up beside a particularly dilapidated trailer, slinging gravel carelessly everywhere. The yard, if you could call the dusty patch of dirt in front of and beside the trailer, was littered with beer cans and liquor bottles and trash. Daryl sighed unhappily. He knew what he'd be doing -his father had never been one to pick up after himself and one of his father's oddities was he expected whatever shithole they'd lived in to be spic and span-as much as a shithole could be anyway. His mother, he and Merle had gotten many a beating for their inability to keep the house picked up to their father's satisfaction. Which basically meant they would have had to follow Will and his cronies around constantly to ensure no empty bottles or cans landed on the floor or spilled or were left lying on tables. Not to mention constantly cleaning the multitude of ashtrays scattered about in every room so Will wouldn't ever have to inconvenience himself hunting for one.

As soon as the truck stopped Daryl scrambled over the tailgate after dropping his duffel bag to the ground first. He stood waiting to see if his father was going to beat him in front of his friends or if he'd have one day of reprieve before the horror began in earnest.

Will and his friends clambered out of the truck cab laughing and jostling each other as if they'd pulled off some remarkable feat. Will halted suddenly as the three men stumbled toward the door of the trailer, and turned to peer at Daryl in confusion. Daryl realized with a start that his father had forgotten he was in the truck bed and wished desperately that he'd thought to jump out at a stop sign and run away. Better to freeze to death outside and alone than to be alone five minutes with his father.

Daryl stood clutching his duffel bag white knuckled while his father gazed at him. "Well, boy, it's just you and me now. Least til your idiot brother gets out of juvie," Will grumbled. Daryl kept quiet, not sure if he was meant to answer. "Yer damn fool mama burnt herself and the damn house up-so drunk she must've dropped her cig or forgot to put it out," he paused, peering intently at Daryl. Daryl gulped and stifled a squeak. Now he knew for sure his father had killed his mother somehow. He had seen his mother before being sent out-she hadn't been drunk earlier and when he'd last seen her she had been lying motionless across a bloodied bed. He realized this was going to be the story his Pa would put around town-that his mother had been drunk and burnt herself up. Now he'd have to spend every day wondering when his father was going to kill him. Or Merle when he got back.

Unconsciously Daryl took a step back and clutched the duffel bag tighter as if it would shield him from his father if Will struck out. Will smiled, and Daryl jerked at the coldness in that smile. "So here's how its gonna be from now on, now that your slut of a mama ain't here to coddle ya. I expect ya to pull yer weight around here, understand me? Keep this place picked up since that whore ain't here ta do it." He paused and Daryl quickly nodded he understood. "You'll have to learn how ta hunt and fish and such ta keep me fed. I ain't in any physical shape ta get no job and that's what yer for-kids are sposed ta take care of their parents. So we'll have ta get ya trained hunting, cleaning and gutting. Cooking too I suppose. For now get the yard cleaned up and when it's done to where I'm satisfied ya can come in and get settled in yer room," and with that Will turned and waving his friends on they all went into the trailer and shut the door loudly. In just a minute Daryl could hear music playing loudly and occasionally a hoop or holler come from inside.

Daryl carried his duffel to a small concrete pad with a tin awning over it-a kind of carport-and set it down before taking his warm coat off and folding it carefully on top of the duffel. He found some large trash bags crammed into a corner of the shelving and sighing again began to clean up the yard.


	18. Chapter 18

Life without protection

By the time Merle returned "home", it was January and Daryl had spent the better part of the Fall and Winter months learning under his father's tutelage how to hunt, gut, skin and clean his kills for daily sustenance. Daryl scrambled to quickly learn how to track quietly, shoot a bow and rifle with good enough aim to be able to skin, gut and portion it so he could carry it back to the trailer if he happened to get lucky out in the woods. He had to learn quickly because his father had no patience for teaching anyone- especially not a boy he daily reminded was a motherless bastard. That he was not Will's son but out of the goodness of Will's heart he would continue to raise him now that his whore of a mother was dead due to her drunken carelessness.

Will also taught him how to fish and gut and scale the fish as well. Although it was winter, it never got truly cold enough to freeze the streams or rivers around the area so Daryl learned to carry a cooler with him so as to catch as many fish as possible in order to spend fewer days out in the wind in and out of the freezing water.

Will casually mentioned to Daryl one January day as Daryl struggled to fry up some squirrels he'd caught earlier for Will's dinner that Merle would be home from juvie in a few days. Daryl almost dropped the skillet of squirrel meat and scrambled to cover his near mistake and keep from looking too happy at the news. Merle would be home soon. Daryl hadn't dared to ask Will if Merle knew about their mother or where they were now living. He'd been foolish enough to mention Merle one time and been beaten nearly senseless while Will raged at him not to even dare compare himself to Merle ever. Merle was his true son and Daryl could never measure up to the man Merle was becoming.

After that Daryl had kept quiet about Merle and began listening more closely to Will and his friends talk-he found himself envying Merle for all the bragging Will did about him never realizing it was all a put on. Will had never shown any interest or inclination toward kindness any more to Merle than he had to Daryl, but Daryl had forgotten that in his loneliness and misery. A hardness began to form in Daryl's heart against Merle and Will reveled in the thought that he was driving a wedge between the two boys.

Will and his friends picked Merle up at juvie one sunny and mild for January afternoon and had somewhere scraped up the funds to treat Merle to a decent lunch with pie for dessert. They'd lingered until the late afternoon, Will counting on the time passing to make Daryl even more resentful. He had often tried to pit the boys against one another but that damned Shirley had smoothed things over between the boys each time. Now that she wasn't around to ruin things he had lots of fun things planned for those boys.

Merle burst into the trailer, excited to see his brother again after so long. Daryl greeted Merle silently, a sullen look on his face as well as a fresh black eye. Merle stopped short and gave Daryl a measuring look taking in his now ragged clothes he'd gotten from the foster hall and the fact that Daryl was frying something in a pan on the stove. Daryl was cooking? Merle looked around the trailer, seeing the obvious effort that had been made to keep it tidy and again looked over at Daryl who was now avoiding his gaze. Merle's lips tightened into a grimace at the thought of Daryl being made to clean and cook for their worthless drunk of a father. And no one to stop it now that their mother was gone. He felt shame rise up in him that he hadn't been here for his brother-Daryl had borne the brunt of their father's anger for months now with no one to protect him.

Will and his friends stepped into the trailer and slammed the door behind him, Will laughing jovially. He clapped a hand roughly on Merle's back causing Merle to flinch and look in surprise at Will.

"Well now Merle, you're a man of the world now that you've been locked up six months or more. Guess ya can drank a beer with us now," he rasped and snapped his fingers. Daryl quickly scurried to pull four cans of beer out of the ancient refrigerator after sliding the skillet off the burner and trotted into the living room to hand them to each of the men and Merle. Merle nodded and opened his mouth to say something to Daryl when Will gave Daryl a hard shove that knocked him to the floor. "Take no notice of the little bastard Merle. He knows his place and it ain't in here with us," and he gave a kick to Daryl's ribs as Daryl scrambled to his feet and went back into the kitchen. Merle's mouth dropped open before he snapped it shut. There was no way he was going to question what was going on here-that would only make it worse for Daryl. He'd wait until his old man passed out or left to go prowling with his idiot friends and then he'd find out what the hell was going on.

By the time Will and his friends left to prowl the bars that would still admit them, Merle had had four beers and was staggering when he was dragged out to the bar by Will. Daryl had finished cooking and then put everything away and cleaned up-he knew his father would be looking for something to eat when he got back and he didn't want another experience of being rousted out of bed by his drunken father and friends and being slapped and cuffed while he tried to cook something up for them to eat in their alcoholic haze. So he'd taken to cooking up extra when he could so his father would have something when he got back from wherever he'd gone off to.

Daryl thought about Merle and his face twisted with disgust and disappointment. Here was the brother he'd looked forward to seeing again and he was no better than their father-after hours of bragging about all his adventures in juvie he'd gone with them to a bar that was not above serving seriously underage boys. Daryl picked up the room and then headed to the bathroom where he took a quick shower taking advantage of the fact that the water hadn't been cut off this week and no one was around to bang on the door and yell at him to get the fuck out he was using up the hot water.

After he'd dried off and pulled on the pajamas he'd gotten at the foster place that were now too small but were the only ones that his father hadn't commandeered for cleaning rags he stumbled with exhaustion to the small bedroom his father had allowed him. It looked like it had at one time been a pantry or linen closet but Will had magnanimously announced that Daryl could use it for his room-adding that Daryl was damn lucky Will was even letting Daryl stay here. Daryl had just numbly padded the floor with some of the clothes and towels he'd brought in the duffel bag and been grateful for a place to curl up and hopefully get a few hours sleep.

Morning came quickly and Daryl was kicked awake by his father and ordered to fix some breakfast for everyone. Without comment Daryl had arisen, staggered with exhaustion into the kitchen and automatically began to pull out eggs and sausage and bread, butter for frying as well as fixed the coffee pot with the coffee the way his father had instructed him to. His father surprised Daryl every once in a while with groceries and Daryl never asked how or where his father had come by them. Will of course emphasized that these items were not for Daryl. If Daryl were good he might be treated to some of Will's food but it was to be understood that Daryl was never to take anything without Will first stating he could have it. Daryl had already spent more than a few nights with his stomach cramping from hunger after having cooked up supper for his father and friends and not getting a bite of it.

Daryl had gotten creative in finding a way to feed himself on the sly-Daryl had found an abandoned bike at the dump one afternoon and seen the only thing wrong with it was the chain had come off. He had worked on it patiently until he could ride it. He had taken to riding it to town to scavenge in the various grocery store dumpsters on inventory day-his mother had told him that's how she had gotten some of their food. Nothing wrong with any of it, just the customers wanted fresh produce not week old. As long as there was no mold or rot, it was safe to eat. He had also scavenged discarded cans of dog food occasionally when the pickings at the grocery had been slim. The thought of eating dog food had made him gag at first, but he'd heated it up and eaten it slowly telling himself it was better than starving. Daryl had worked out a place in the woods he'd rigged up as a sort of tree stand with adequate cover from the elements where he could stash his grocery store items so he'd have something to eat apart from what his Pa grudgingly threw his way. This had worked out fine for the colder months but he worried what he could do when it grew warmer.

Will made sure to humiliate Daryl all that day by having him wait on both he and Merle even after his friends had left. He began to drop items on the floor and snap his fingers at Daryl to pick them up, just like Daryl had watched him do to his mother. As this went on through the morning, into the afternoon and then evening he found himself wanting to pound Merle's face in for not saying anything. He realized logically that Merle was as much at their father's mercy as he was, but he also felt bitterly disappointed that his brother wasn't saying anything at all to their father.

Will clapped Merle on the back. "Well now Merle, c'mon along. I doubt you've busted your cherry yet. I've got a welcome home present for you tonight. C'mon along and let's get this evening started right," Will laughed jovially. A knock at the door announced the arrival of some more of the evenings participants and as Merle was pulled along by his father and pushed out the door he chanced a look at Daryl who he saw was staring at him with a pained expression. Merle opened his mouth to say something then shut it quickly not wanting to get his father riled. Will slung the door shut behind them, leaving Daryl to clean up after them again before trudging wearily off to bed.


	19. Chapter 19

Survival

The next few years saw this routine played out intermittently-Merle would go off for various lengths of time to juvie for stealing cars, robbing stores, fighting. When he returned he would be more coarse, loud and vulgar and prone to lay on the couch for hours with their father and his friends or some of the losers Merle had gathered round him-drinking, snorting, smoking, talking about various pussy they'd all had. Daryl had given up any hope that his brother would help him in any way and learned to stay quiet and hope to go unnoticed, invisible. He kept the place tidy, kept food stocked and slipped off more and more often to his makeshift shelter in the woods. He had scavenged and scrounged for bedding and clothes, food and rigged up a rainmaker for water. When his father started shooting up he knew he could stay away longer and not be missed. Two or three days, then he'd sneak back in to clean up and see how the food supply was then he'd slip out again.

By the age of thirteen Daryl was living almost entirely in the woods, rarely going home except to check on the state of the trailer and to his utter shame to check on his father. Despite the years of beatings and verbal abuse, he couldn't entirely turn his back and walk away from his father. He'd stayed away one time for a month but had finally broken down and gone to check on Will. The trailer had been a pigsty, reeking of unwashed bodies and vomit and urine. Daryl had gagged and hurriedly opened all the windows and picked up and scrubbed everything all the while his father lay passed out on his bed, oblivious to everything.

Daryl rarely saw Merle, between staying gone and Merle's more frequent trips to juvie then jail. When Daryl was thirteen and Merle nineteen Merle had abruptly joined the Army and gone off to boot camp. Daryl had stayed away knowing how angry Will would be. Then suddenly a few months later Merle was back saying the military life wasn't for him. Daryl speculated on what had actually happened and guessed Merle had started a fight with the wrong person and been sent packing. He only guessed, he knew enough to never actually ask for the truth from Merle.

One night, when Daryl was fifteen, he was scavenging around in the dump. He had long outgrown the bike he'd fixed the chain on, and desperately needed some form of transportation to get into town to the dumpsters. He found a banged up wreck of a dirtbike and began to cannibalize parts from other bikes he found in the dump. He had taken the parts and the skeleton of the bike back to his hideout and for months had painstakingly built it into something he could actually ride. It was all trial and error, with many errors along the way. Now all he needed was gas to get the damn thing running.

He crept back into the dump to rummage around and see if he could find any remnants of gas in either a car or a gas can left lying about. The dump had a couple of Shepard guard dogs that he'd long since coaxed and bribed with venison or squirrel he'd saved from hunting so that now when he snuck in at night they merely sniffed at him and whined for their expected treats. Once Daryl had given them whatever he'd brought he was free to rummage and scavenge as long as he liked.

He'd been searching unsuccessfully for any kind of fuel he could siphon or carry off in a gas can when he was startled by a whistle and the excited barking of the dogs. He quickly ducked down behind a car and tried to keep himself quiet.  
"I know yer out there boy, it's alright. C'mon out and talk ta me," he heard the voice of the owner of the dump. He clenched his fists, sure he was about to get torn to pieces by the dogs or the police would arrive and off to jail he'd go where he'd rot-his father would never bail him out. He stayed crouched down, trying to slow his breathing down when one of the dogs bounded up and barked in between licking his face happily. Daryl tried to hush the dog and push it away, but the dog thought he was playing and barked even louder and jumped around wagging it's tail.

"It's alright, I ain't mad," he heard the owner say from just in front of him. Daryl peered suspiciously from under his fringe of unkempt hair and stayed silent. "Yer Will Dixon's boy, right?" the man persisted. Daryl nodded briefly and shut his eyes, sure the next thing to be said would be about his family being no account trash and the law was on its way. "I been kinda keepin' an eye on ya the last few weeks. Yer buildin' a bike of some kind right?" Daryl rolled his shoulder and kept his eyes on the ground, trying to think of which way he could run to escape his arrest.


	20. Respite

Respite

To Daryl's surprise the man laughed softly. "Boy, I told ya I ain't mad. Ya got my interest peaked though. I know yer daddy and you seem to be cut from a different cloth than him. Or from yer brother if truth be told. Ya seem like ya want to make yer own way-unlike the other men in yer family." The man went silent and Daryl peeked up from underneath his bangs and was again surprised at the lack of anger on the man's face or in his voice. "Ya got a name boy?" the man rasped. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one, then held the pack out to Daryl. "Ya want one?" he offered.

Daryl hesitated then nodded and took one and the lighter offered and lit the cigarette and drew deeply. He hadn't smoked but rarely, having no money for cigarettes and so only smoking when he could scavenge a carton from a store dumpster. It didn't matter what brand they were, he found smoking calmed his nerves and helped him empty out his mind so he could relax just a bit.

"Daryl," he replied at last, sensing the man wasn't going to leave until he got an answer.

The man nodded thoughtfully. "Well Daryl, I got a proposition for ya. Don't need an answer tonight, ya ken take yer time and think it over for a few days. But I feel like my idea would benefit both of us," he said quietly.

Daryl tensed up, immediately suspicious. Nobody ever had an idea that would benefit him. He blew smoke out slowly in a ring and flicked the ashes before answering. "What is it?" he asked warily.

The man stubbed his cigarette out on the ground and motioned with his arm for Daryl to follow. "C'mon and I'll show ya," he replied and strode off toward a far corner of the dump not bothering to see if Daryl followed. Daryl hesitated a second then threw his cigarette down, stamped it out and hurried to follow the man.

They stopped in front of a rusted out wreck of a trailer-although Daryl noted it was in better condition than the shithole his father lived in. "I use this to house my night guard," the man stated, watching Daryl. "I guess you know I don't have one right at the moment." Daryl nodded slightly and remained silent. "The inside looks better than the outside. It's got 'lectricity, running water, sewer hookup. Got a air conditioner unit, heat in the winter. Furnished, nothing fancy but it's clean." Daryl nodded again, uncertain why the man was showing him this. "Boy, I'm wantin' ta know if you'd like to live here. In exchange for keepin' a eye on things at night," he continued quietly. "You can scavenge to yer heart's content for parts, hell rebuild or fix up any of the cars here and we can sell 'em cheap to folks who need a vehicle but can't make payments. I'll split the proceeds with ya."

Daryl stared at the man, dumbstruck. A job? A decent place to live? And he could work on cars or bikes and get paid for it if he got them to run?

The man watched the emotions run across Daryl's face and felt relieved he'd offered this to Daryl. He had told his wife about the situation-his wife had seen Will Dixon around town and had been horrified to find out the man had a teenage boy. She had nagged her husband constantly for weeks now-where did the poor child stay? How was he surviving? She wouldn't trust an old rabid dog with that old drunk. Finally she had wheedled him into thinking about offering the boy a place to stay and giving him some money to watch the place at night. They had never had children, and anytime his wife heard about a child in a bad situation she worried herself to death until she found some means of helping even a little bit to better the child's circumstances.

Now she had made Daryl her project and her husband knew if he didn't agree to what she'd proposed he would never again get a peaceful night's sleep. Or a warm meal. Or have his clothes washed and mended. It would be easier and far less painful for him to just agree to her idea and so he had. Now he just hoped Daryl would accept the proposition so he could go back and tell his wife good news.  
"Would ya like to look at the inside?' he asked, hoping Daryl would say something soon.

Daryl just gazed back silently, too shocked to speak.

"C'mon, lets go in and see what ya think," he said hoping to jolt Daryl into making some kind of response. Daryl nodded again, as if in a daze, and followed the man up the few steps and into the trailer.

Inside he felt relief that the inside was indeed nicer than the outside. It wasn't fancy, but the furniture was of better quality than his parents had been- that having come from garbage day pickings and dumpster scavenging. This furniture was worn but clean and sturdy.  
"By the way, Daryl, my name's Mike. Mike Anderson," the man said as he gave Daryl a short tour. There was a tiny kitchen which his wife had made sure to stock with dishes, glasses, silverware, as well as the bare necessities food wise-canned goods, bread, milk, eggs. Enough food to tide Daryl over until he could get his bearings.

The bathroom was small as well but clean, and stocked with soap, shampoo, towels, basic hygiene products such as deodorant, etc.  
Finally there were two bedrooms, both small but one outfitted with a decent bed on an old iron bedframe, a battered but sturdy dresser and a small closet empty but for a few hangers. The second bedroom was empty. They returned to the living room and Mike looked at Daryl for any sign of interest.

Daryl kept his eyes averted and had the sudden urge to pinch himself. This couldn't possibly be happening. He must have fallen and hit his head and now he lay dying somewhere out in the woods or in his lean to. Things like this didn't happen to him. No one bothered to notice him, much less to think about making sure he was warm and dry and fed.

Mike watched Daryl and felt his heart clench in his chest. The sight of that young boy so mistreated and ashamed of himself that he couldn't fathom anyone taking an interest in and helping him made him glad his wife had kept after him to help Daryl. That Will Dixon or any parent could have so crushed their child's pride and self- worth made him furious and even more determined now to see Daryl move into the trailer and learn the way of the world in the right way.

Daryl at last ventured a glance at Mike and bit his lip anxiously. He so wanted to accept the offer, to stay in this warm, dry, clean trailer out of the elements -to eat, sleep, take a shower with hot water. But what if it was a trick? What if there was more to it than this? Daryl had learned from his father not to ever expect anything good from anyone. That he wasn't worth anyone troubling themselves over-not his father and certainly not perfect strangers.

Seeing his hesitation, Mike felt his chest ache even more at the thought of what this young boy's life must have been like.

"I'll tell ya what Daryl. If you'd like, ya can stay here tonight and see if ya feel comfortable. In the morning when I get to the yard here we can talk. If ya don't feel good about staying, that's fine. No harm, no foul. The offer to work on cars and such and us splitting the profits will still be on the table. If ya want to help me watch the dump some nights, that offer still stands as well. Any part of it, or all of it. It's up to you. Is that alright?"

Daryl finally nodded slowly and Mike let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Daryl reminded him of a feral cat he'd once found in the dump. He had worked patiently for months for that cat to trust him enough to let him get close to it and then a few more months before the cat would let him pet it. His patience had paid off, the cat becoming a beloved pet for the next twelve years until he died peacefully in his perch in the dump office. Mike hoped that with patience Daryl would learn to trust both him and his wife enough that he would stay on here and let them help him.

"Do you need me to take you to your place and get anything?" Mike asked hesitantly. Daryl frowned and flushed with embarrassment.

"Naw," he stammered out quickly.

Mike said another round of thanks silently to his wife, who had insisted on stocking the dresser with some clean clothes she thought might fit the boy. The clothes Daryl had on were filthy and ragged and should be thrown away as they were beyond repair.

"Okay, well I'm gonna get. There's clothes in the dresser, they should be close to fittin' ya. I'll leave ya ta get settled in here and I'll come knock when I get here to open in the morning-close ta eight or so," and with that Mike raised a hand in goodbye and stepped back out into the night, closing the door firmly behind him.

Daryl stood taking everything in silently for a few minutes before giving himself a shake and crossing to the door. He checked the lock and dead bolted it. He took his shoes off and left them by the door then padding quietly down the hall to the bathroom he carefully shucked his clothes and left them in a neat pile in the hallway. He stepped into the bathroom, avoiding a glance at the mirror. Shame of his body and appearance had been so deeply instilled in Daryl that he avoided any glimpse of himself. His father had let him know pretty much daily that he was an ugly bastard, would most likely never get a woman because no decent woman or even a drunken whore would want an ugly scarred freak like himself. He also had been told frequently that in the dick department he was sorely lacking, his father frequently laughingly telling his friends how small and withered Daryl was-yet another example of how Daryl couldn't possibly be his son-his own dick being a source of pride for its appearance and his prowess in using it.

Daryl quickly stepped into the shower and turned it on as hot as he could stand it, then stepped under the steaming stream and sighed. He stood silently, letting the water pound him and watched absently as the dirt poured off him and the water changed from brown to clear. He quickly scrubbed his hair and rinsed until it squeaked and then soaped up and rinsed off. When the water at last turned cool he turned the stream off and stepped out to towel off, grabbing a towel from a stack that had been neatly folded and placed on a small shelf.

Wrapping the towel around his waist, he wandered into the furnished bedroom and lay down on the bed, sighing again at how comfortable it was. He'd been sleeping on blankets piled on the ground for years now, he'd forgotten what an actual bed felt like. He leaned back and stretched and shifted about until he was comfortable, then closed his eyes to think.


	21. Chapter 21

Be Careful What You Wish For

One fall afternoon about a year after Daryl had accepted Mike's offer, Daryl slipped into his father's trailer quietly to check on things. It was in worse disarray than he'd seen it in some time and as he grabbed some garbage bags from where he'd hidden them he heard a groan from the back of the trailer in the vicinity of the bathroom.

Daryl crept cautiously along the hallway to the doorway of the bathroom. Peering in he saw his father lying prone in a mass of vomit, his head bloodied from a fall against the counter or the toilet. Daryl stood paralyzed, taking in the scene. As many times as he'd wished his father dead, he'd never imagined Will Dixon drowning in his own vomit.

Daryl stood staring slack jawed, in shock at the scene before him. His mind had gone blank and he couldn't seem to shake himself into action. He lost track of the time as he stood there, realizing if he left his father to die he would finally be free of his tormenter. No more beatings, no more humiliation, no more being called a bastard and hearing the various insults regarding his mother. Daryl's breath hitched in his chest, a quickly stifled sob escaping his lips. He would no longer be tormented, but he would be all alone in the world. No mother, no father, who knew where Merle was or when he'd reappear?

And if he called for help? First they had no phone so he'd have to call from the dump office. Then they had no money, no insurance. Would an ambulance even come? And how long had his father been lying there? Would there be any guarantee that if Daryl called an ambulance and if the ambulance came and if Will survived to arrive at the hospital, would he ever be fit to live on his own again?

At the thought of being his father's full time caretaker, Daryl's legs gave out and he sank to the floor. No matter what he did, there was no good outcome for him. It was the story of his life-he was screwed. Cursed. He could either sit here and watch his father die-for however long that would take. Or he could go, call an ambulance, hope they came and hope his father would make a full recovery.  
Daryl's eyes began to burn and he rubbed them roughly with the heels of his hands. What the fuck was he to do?


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Daryl waited until night was full on, then wrapped his father in the stained and filthy sheets off Will's bed. It had taken all his strength to drag Will across the yard and to deposit him into the bed of the old truck he'd taken to driving. He left the body to lie there while he went back and cleaned up the vomit and blood out of the bathroom. He opened all the windows and found some aerosol spray to douse the rooms with. Then he'd gathered the few clothes and belongings of his fathers and tied them in the pillowcases off the two filthy pillows and carried everything out to the truck. He drove off on an old rutted barely visible path deep into the woods. Getting out, he grabbed the shovel he'd remembered to bring from the trailer and dragging the body and belongings further into the woods he began to dig a hole.

Hours later Daryl walked through the trailer once more, checking each room carefully to see if he'd missed anything. Then, pulling the windows shut and dousing all but one light, he stepped out and down the steps and slammed the door firmly behind him. He got into the truck and without a backward glance headed back to the dump and his trailer. He'd be damned if he ever set foot in or near this place again.

Back at his trailer, Daryl quickly stripped off his filthy clothes outside the trailer door and made a mental note to bag them up or burn them. After locking the door securely behind him, he stumbled down the hall to the bathroom-exhausted and numb from shock. He turned the water on as hot as it would go and stepped into the shower, wincing as the hot stream hit his skin. Gritting his teeth he backed up and let the water pound down on him, watching the dirt and grime swirl down the drain. After the water began to run clean, he sank down and leaned his back against the wall. Stuffing a washcloth in his mouth to stifle the noise Daryl screamed and sobbed out his anguish -his only living kin now was his brother, he might as well have none. He was completely alone now.


	23. Aftermath

Aftermath

A few of Wills friends went banging on the Dixon trailer door a few times in the days after Daryl had found him drowning in his own vomit. Having no answer they'd each on their own visit swung the door open and peered in. The trailer smelled faintly of vomit, but that wasn't unusual. They'd all pulled all-nighters more than a few times with ol' Will and so the smell of vomit was nothing new. It wasn't like they could go to the police and report Will missing-that would mean admitting to what all they'd been up to that night and they didn't need the police nosing around in their business.

Will Dixon had disappeared. That was what his friends all told each other, shaking their heads in disbelief. They'd just have to wait for his bastard son to show up and beat some information out of him.

Daryl stayed away from anyplace where he might run into any of Will's "friends", knowing they'd probably try to beat some information from him about where Will had gone off to. His father was no longer around to beat him and he be damned if he was going to suffer at anyone else's hands now or in the future. Daryl had noticed Mike looking at him a few times, hesitating as if he wanted to ask Daryl about his father's disappearance but to Daryl's eternal gratitude Mike never did come out and ask Daryl anything about Will at all.


	24. Chapter 24

Merle Returns

Daryl was deep in concentration as he bent over the open hood of the car he was trying to salvage. He'd been able to scavenge parts from other wrecked vehicles in the yard and he was busy trying to figure out just how and where to put everything. Mike had been kind enough to give him various mechanic instruction books-basics about oil changes, brake changes, etc. Mike had even spent some slow afternoons helping Daryl figure out some of the workings of various cars. Between the two of them they'd managed to resurrect a few cars that were good for use as beater cars and sold them for a small sum. Daryl now had a tiny nest egg growing in a coffee can he kept hidden under a floor board in his bedroom and he had been able to buy himself some clothes, boots, food, etc for some time now. For the first time in his life he felt like a human being-he had a job, his own place, a little bit of money put away and Mike and his wife seemed to genuinely like him. Although still wary of people, Daryl had let his guard down a fraction with the couple and felt more comfortable around Mike than he ever had with anyone, his own family included.

"There ya are! I been lookin' all over the goddam place for ya!" Daryl froze at the sound of that voice. "Couldn't b'lieve it when Pop's drinkin' buddies said ya been out here workin' for a while, and that Pop just up and left and ain't been seen in a long while," the voice continued. Daryl gritted his teeth and clenched his fists tightly around the tools he was holding. He had never realized how much Merle sounded like their father-same loud, blustery, braggardly way of talking. It had grated on his nerves for years and now here he was hearing it again.  
"Ain't ya gonna welcome yer big brother home, baby brother?" Merle continued jeeringly.

Daryl blew out a sigh and turned slowly to face his brother. Merle stopped in his tracks and each brother took slow measure of the other. Daryl could see quite clearly that Merle's looks were already being ruined by his reckless lifestyle, and he was still in his twenties. Merle could see that Daryl had grown into a handsome young man, a bit taller and broader in the shoulders than Merle himself was with thick wavy dirty blonde hair and those light blue eyes so like their mother's-wolf eyes. Merle observed that Daryl looked like he was doing okay for himself-wasn't starving, had decent clothes on and seemed to know what he was doing underneath that hood. Merle felt a strong stab of jealousy-for all that Daryl had been through he seemed to have landed on his feet while he himself was still trying to find a place to land. A short stint in the Army followed by repeated stints of varying length in jail had left him all but unemployable-not that he had any yearning for a nine to five life.

Merle had been by the family trailer and noted it was in worse shape than he remembered it-not to mention a family of raccoons were squatting in it and had seemed disinterested in leaving any time soon. He had wondered where his brother and father had gotten to when he ran into some of his Pop's drinking buddies and they had been more than happy to fill him in on the goings on with his brother and father. Merle had found it odd that his father, who had no money or ambition and no friends other than his drinking buddies had managed to disappear without a trace. There was no sense in asking the police for any information-they weren't interested in looking into the disappearance of the town drunk and trouble maker. Something about the whole thing didn't sit right with Merle, and he was determined to get some information out of his baby brother somehow.

After a few moments silence, Merle grinned rakishly and Daryl flinched at the strong resemblance to their father. Merle noticed the flinch and wondered what exactly had happened in that trailer while he'd been away. "Well now, looks like ya got yerself a nice set up here. To hear tell, ya work here and got a place ta stay too." Merle waited for Daryl's reply and watched while Daryl just nodded and fidgeted with the tools in his hands. "Hear tell Pa ain't been seen around these parts for a good long while either," Merle said quietly, watching Daryl very closely. Daryl rolled a shoulder and kept his eyes on the tools in his hands. Merle made a mental note of this-something to dig into a little deeper at another time. "Whatta ya say we go out tonight and catch up? What time do ya clock out?" and Merle snickered at the thought of Daryl having to clock out at a town dump.

Daryl's head shot up at the sound of Merle's laughter-laughing at him goddammit. Who the fuck was Merle to laugh at him?  
Merle's mouth dropped open and Daryl realized he'd said that out loud. He swallowed nervously and then gave himself a mental kick. He was an adult now, Merle couldn't tell him what to do-no one could anymore. And really, who was Merle to laugh at him? All the time that Merle had been bouncing around he had been trying to learn how to make himself a living and building a nestegg so he could someday live somewhere else-away from the dump and away from this town. Somewhere he could make a fresh start and no one would know who he was or who his family was.

"I ain't interested in catching up," Daryl rasped, his throat constricted, his chest tight with anxiety and his stomach rolling. He'd never stood up for himself or talked back to either his father or brother and he felt that if he didn't draw a line for Merle to see not to cross, he would forever be at the mercy of his brother like he'd been to his father.

It was Merle's turn for his mouth to drop open now. He glared at Daryl, not missing the slight tremble in Daryl's hands or the sweat popping out on Daryl's face and the flush creeping up his neck. If he didn't shut Daryl's little rebellion down he would never be able to talk him into doing what Merle had come here to talk about-lighting out and leaving this shitty town. Take off and see the world. At least until they ran out of money at which time Merle could start dealing somewhere until they got enough money to move on again. He had thought of using Daryl as his backup and now that he saw Daryl he realized Daryl would be a lot more handy to have with him than he'd thought.

Merle tried to look crestfallen and shocked at Daryl's remark. "Why baby brother! We ain't seen one another in a few years -and you don't want to go out and have a fine meal with me and catch up? Why we're the only ones left of the Dixon family now-we got to stick together. It's us against the world boy!"

Merle took a step forward and Daryl backed up, hitting his back against the car. Daryl shook his head, partly to say no and partly to clear his head. Hearing Merle talk was bringing up that old feeling he always had with his father-overpowered and helpless to stop whatever was coming next. "No Merle. No," Daryl stammered and clenched his fists tighter-since his father had died his stammer had slowly faded to where it only happened rarely. Now here he was stammering againhe felt like a ten year old again. "I ain't goin' out runnin' the bars with you. I ain't interested." Daryl paused and drew a deep breath, then looked Merle dead in the eyes. "We ain't never been a family, not that I remember. What the fuck do you really want with me, cuz you ain't showed no damn interest in me in forever," and Daryl made a visible effort to still himself and stand straight.

Merle stared at Daryl, speechless for one of the few times in his life. He had to admit to himself if to no one else that Daryl had balls for standing up to him. He hadn't expected anything of the sort from his little brother. He was going to have to approach this a different way-clearly Daryl was not going to be bullied into anything easily. Not while he had a bit of independence from his time away from their father.

Merle backed up and nodded in acquiescence. He raised his hands in surrender. "Alright Daryl. I hate that ya feel this way, but I won't argue with ya. We're each other's only kin now, and I don't want no disagreements tween us. Can I at least sit with ya a bit and hear how yer doing?"

Daryl shot a wary look at Merle. Something wasn't right about this-Merle was backing off too easily. He and their father had been like damn dogs with a bone when they dug their feet in about something-he had watched his father bully his mother endlessly over trivial bullshit too many times not to be able to have picked up the same trait in Merle. Still, Merle was making him feel guilty with all the family bullshit he was throwing out there. Maybe he could let Merle stay at his trailer tonight and then Merle could go wander off tomorrow.

Daryl at last relaxed slightly and Merle grinned inwardly. This might not turn out to be as difficult as he thought. He just had to remember to throw out the family line often enough to play on Daryl's guilt and seem to be respectful of his opinion. At least for now. Daryl had always had an easy face to read, although Daryl thought himself inscrutable. Merle had often heard their mother sigh when Daryl was small that Daryl would have his heart broken a lot because he wore it on his sleeve. Another difference between the two of them, Merle realized. Another reason Merle had ridden Daryl about being the sweet one of the two of them.

Merle watched as Daryl carefully put all his tools away in his toolbox, noting how fussy Daryl was about putting everything back in its proper place and tidying up before they headed to the trailer Daryl lived in. Merle thought that if he could convince Daryl to go off with him, it would be like having a woman traveling with him-Daryl would keep everything tidy and picked up and he knew Daryl knew how to cook. It would be nice to have a place that didn't look like a sty-this might turn out to be better than Merle had hoped for.


	25. Chapter 25

Down The Rabbit Hole Again

In the end it didn't take Merle as long to wear Daryl down as he had feared. A few days of guilt laden remarks had worked it's magic. On a Monday morning, after a weekend of packing what meager belongings he had and saying his goodbyes to Mike and his wife, Daryl and Merle headed out. Merle had a bike it turned out that he'd won in a card game, or so he claimed. Mike had given Daryl a truck that Daryl had restored and gotten running again. It wasn't fancy or pretty but it was sturdy and it was Daryl's.

Merle told Daryl they'd head south, toward Atlanta, and Daryl reluctantly agreed. Merle promised they wouldn't be in Atlanta proper, there was a small town just south of there where Merle had some friends he'd promised to hook up with. Daryl just nodded and followed Merle silently. As the miles passed putting more distance between himself and the couple he had come to think of as his friends Daryl felt himself growing tenser and more anxious. He hadn't wanted to leave, hadn't wanted to go anywhere at all with Merle but somehow Merle had made him feel guilty and a traitor for refusing. So he had finally buckled and now here he was following his brother to God knew what actually waited for him ahead. He sighed and bit down on his lip, drawing blood. He would give Merle the benefit of the doubt and if Merle was lying he would go back to the dumpMike had told him he was welcome to come back anytime. Daryl lit a cigarette and blew the smoke out slowly as he watched the town he'd grown up in get smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror.

The next few years were a routine of settling in a small town, Merle setting up with the local drug dealers until the situation got too dicey and he and Daryl fled-usually in the middle of the night. Or Merle got tossed into the local jail and Daryl stayed around and worked odd jobs until Merle got out and they moved on. They never stayed any place longer than six months, unless Merle got thrown in for a longer stretch. One time Merle had gotten jailed for a year long stretch in a town close to the Florida line and Daryl had gotten a job at a gas station where he had worked on cars. For almost a year he had enjoyed the peace and quiet of his tiny run down apartment without Merle to pick up after or to follow around to make sure he didn't get beat up in the shit bars around the area. For almost a year he had a steady job with steady pay-cash under the table-and enjoyed eating on a regular basis and not having to spend money on beer instead of food. Then Merle had been released early and off they'd gone again-back to sharing motel rooms or shithole apartments that Daryl paid for with his odd jobs he picked up wherever they landed.

Some nights as Daryl lay sleepless in his bed listening to Merle fuck some barfly he'd picked up, or listening to Merle and some tweakers argue or brag loudly about their doings or waited tensely for the phone to ring so he could go pick Merle up at some bar he'd wandered into while Daryl was working-some nights Daryl wished he'd never left that dump and trailer and job. Merle didn't raise a hand to him, but he could cut Daryl to the quick with his smart ass comments and constant belittlement of anything Daryl took a liking to. Merle wasn't their Pa, but he was pretty close in a lot of ways and Daryl was ashamed of himself for falling for the guilt trip and now aimlessly wandering around picking up and cleaning up Merle's catastrophes.

Daryl felt he was just a shadow, not a real person-invisible to everyone and only acknowledged by Merle when he'd gotten himself in a jam. The morsel of self -esteem he'd been building up the time he lived in the dump evaporated quickly and he felt hopeless when he tried to picture any kind of future in one place with a job and a bit of money saved. As the years passed, he more often felt himself moving through his days on automatic pilot, numb to pretty much everything around him and just concentrating on getting through the day without having to extract Merle from some major mishap. He grew thin from lack of appetite, shadows under his eyes from sleeplessness and worry. He rarely spoke because his stammer had reappeared. The places he worked when they stayed in any place long enough to warrant it necessary to land a job hired him and kept him because of his mechanical aptitude-he was damn good with his hands and knew his way around an engine-but he made no friends because of his silence and the stay away vibe people got from him.

Merle had on occasion tried to bully Daryl into joining him in his sexual escapades-pushing drunken sluts on Daryl at the end of a long night and Daryl had a few times gone along to save an argument. The episodes had been brief, embarrassing and unfulfilling and finally Daryl had put his foot down on this at least and refused any further participation in these escapades.


	26. Chapter 26

The Beginning Of The End

Over a decade of following Merle aimlessly around from one shithole backwater hillbilly town to another and here he was, sitting in front of the junk tv he'd picked up at a pawn store for his grungy, on the wrong side of the tracks apartment he and Merle were staying in. He'd sat up most of the night, nervously checking his phone every so often. They'd been in this particular hellhole for four months and Daryl figured that by Merle's schedule the shit would hit the fan any day now and either they'd slip out in the middle of the night or he would get a call from the local jail where Merle would be locked up. He hadn't gotten any call, but his gut was clenching and he felt as if every nerve in his body was on high alert. He hadn't been able to sleep in a few days-less anyway than his normal five or six hours, and he'd felt skittish and on edge.

Now here he was, watching the tv with his mouth hanging open like a little kid. He had unconsciously gone through almost an entire pack of cigarettes in the time he'd been watching, lighting one right from another. The beer he'd pulled from the fridge had been forgotten as he sat on the edge of a chair he'd pulled almost on top of the tv.

The door opening made him jump, and he turned and half rose out of his seat as Merle came in -shockingly more sober than Daryl had seen him in a good long while. Merle nodded at the tv and gave a low whistle.

"Seen what's goin' on then, baby brother?" Merle said as he ambled over to stand beside Daryl and stare at the tv screen. Daryl nodded silently and sat back down on the edge of the chair. "Caught some of it at a bar. Everyone in there quit drinking or speaking. Dropped their pool cues and crowded round the bar to watch. Bartender turned the sound up and someone yanked the jukebox cord outta the wall." Merle sighed pensively and rubbed his hand over his face. "Shit's bad Daryl," and Daryl flinched at the sound of his name coming out of his brother's mouth. Merle only called him his name when the situation was dire. Daryl found himself looking up at Merle just as he had when he'd been so much younger.

"What do we do?" Daryl asked and Merle glanced sharply at Daryl's face and saw Daryl looking up at him with that look he'd had as a kid and their dad was on the warpath. It both irritated him and made him feel proud at the same time-Daryl was grown, he should figure this out with Merle instead of asking Merle what they should do. At the same time Merle was proud that as much of a fuck up as he'd been all these years, Daryl still looked to him for guidance.

Merle nodded at the tv. "We sit tight for a bit. Watch the news, see what more we can find out. But we also pack anything we may need-weapons, money, food, clothes. We'll pack the back of your truck and put a tarp over it and keep an eye on it so that if and when we gotta leave we just leave." Merle looked at Daryl and Daryl attempted to swallow in a suddenly dry throat and nodded back. Then Merle pulled up a chair beside Daryl and sat down and they turned to watch the news.

The next morning Merle slapped Daryl's shoulder and shouted for him to rise and shine. "Wake up baby brother, got me an idea while I watched that shitshow last night," Merle smirked. Daryl sat up uncertainly, rubbing his hands over his face and reaching for a cigarette.  
"What's that?" Daryl mumbled as he lit the cigarette, drew in deeply and blew out a ring of smoke.

"Well, folks are packing up and leaving in a hurry." Daryl nodded in agreement. "Watched last night and seen all the abandoned houses, businesses…" Daryl squinted up at Merle, feeling sick to his stomach. He knew where this was going. "Banks, brother. Banks. Just sittin' there empty. We could swoop in and clean em out. No one to stop us." Merle's smirk turned to an outright grin, his eyes dancing happily.

Daryl sighed and shook his head. "Merle, things is bad enough. Don't need to rob no banks and get stuck in prison somewhere. Probly left to rot," Daryl blew out another ring of smoke and sighed wearily.

Merle's look turned quickly to a glare. "Bullshit. No one's watching them banks. Ain't no one to stop us. We can pick em clean. Then when the dust settles we'll be sittin' pretty. No more strugglin' or worries. We'll have us a big ol nest egg. Hell, we can probly take our pick of any big house and set up in it as well. We can do whatever we want now, no one to tell us otherwise," Merle growled, increasingly agitated at Daryl's lack of enthusiasm.

Daryl shook his head again. "Goddamit Merle, I ain't robbin' no damn banks," he rasped. "If shits as bad as they're saying on the tv, that money ain't gonna do us no good. And you don't know that no ones watching the banks…"

Before Daryl could finish, Merle had grabbed him by the collar and yanked him up to stand. Merle began shaking Daryl roughly and Daryl stumbled-shocked at the sudden violence in Merle. He'd learned to read Merle years ago, and could see when a temper tantrum was building up. He'd learned to avoid Merle if at all possible when he could sense the rage and frustration about to explode and if couldn't avoid Merle he'd learned to be silent and keep his head ducked down and his fists up to ward off the blows that always came. He'd learned Merle was no different than their father in that respect-when Will Dixon or Merle were angry at the world for stymying their plans they took their anger out on the first object that came to view-couch, door, wall or human. This though, this had come out of nowhere and Daryl had no idea what to say to get Merle settled back down.

Merle leaned in until he was nose to nose with Daryl. "Now you listen to me baby brother. I ain't riding the end of the world out the way I been since I can remember. I ain't goin' hungry, not livin' in a shithole, not driving a vehicle bout to fall apart. While everyone else is runnin' round like they heads been cut off, I aim to be smart about all this and set us up right. And you sure as hell are gonna do this with me. Do you understand me?" Merle gave one last rough shake and pushed Daryl so that his legs struck the couch and he sat down suddenly. "Do. You. Understand. Me." Merle whispered, and Daryl nodded wordlessly. He felt just like he had all those years his father had bullied and beat him-he had no choice but to agree to whatever Merle was suggesting because there would be no mercy shown him if he continued to argue against the idea. His stomach clenched and he felt a cold sweat start to trickle down his back.

Merle nodded and lit a cigarette and smiled-it was if there had been no argument. Merle had gotten what he wanted and he was happy and now everyone could breathe again and the world was right according to Merle. Just like his father. Daryl cursed himself inwardly yet again for having ever left that dump to follow Merle around the state of Georgia like some mindless animal. He leaned forward and clenched his fists and grit his teeth to keep from giving voice to his great unhappiness.

"Alright, so get up and get ready to go. I been scoutin' some places out. We can go see what we can find. And take whatever you want from here-we ain't comin' back to this shithole," and Merle dropped his cigarette on the filthy floor and ground it out. Daryl nodded and stood and strode to the bathroom to take a piss and gather whatever meager belongings he had left to pack.


	27. Chapter 27

Great Expectation

That evening found Merle and Daryl in a town a few hours away from where they'd started that morning. Merle had scouted quite a few places and they now had a decent truck which they'd repacked from Daryl's ancient vehicle. Merle had a new motorcycle-top of the line and fast. Both the dealerships had few employees and what there was had offered no arguments to Merle when he'd waved his gun around. They'd simply handed over the keys and waved Merle off.

Next they'd made a stop at a grocery store-still open, folks running around anxiously trying to figure out what they'd need to stock up on for the end of the world. Merle had dragged Daryl in and instructed Daryl to load the cart up on steaks, more beer, more cigarettes, snacks. Then he'd instructed Daryl to walk the cart out to the truck and load it up while he informed the staff that since it was now the end of the world there were no laws and he was taking what he wanted. Whoever didn't like that or tried to stop him would get shot. Hearing no arguments, Merle had nodded and joined Daryl outside to finish loading the truck with food.

Merle had made Daryl stop at a few small town banks, for once agreeing that Daryl could stay in the truck while he went inside to fill his bag up with what money was still there. Daryl had been surprised at the amount of money his brother had taken from the banks-sure that Merle would be shot or there would be no money in the banks. Again, just like in the dealerships and grocery store, folks were so shaken and uncertain of what was transpiring around the country and the world that no one was making any attempt to stop them. In fact in one bank as Merle was walking out he heard one teller say to another that they were fools if they didn't take some of this money themselves and leave the damn place.

They spent the night in a large house on a hill, in a gated community. There'd been no guard to deny them entrance, in fact the gates stood wide open. They'd driven around the manicured and landscaped streets until Merle pointed out the brick house on a hill set a bit apart from it's neighbors. It was the type of subdivision Daryl had worked in as a landscaper years ago one summer that Merle was in jail. Oversized houses that resembled museums more than homes where families lived-full of the type of furniture and overpriced useless decorations he'd seen once in a while on some tv show about rich people and their homes.

Merle parked his bike on the front lawn and grabbing his gun bounded up the steps to the covered porch. Daryl sat tensely in his truck, waiting for someone to blow Merle's head off for trespassing. Merle knocked loudly then turned the door handle and barged in. Daryl sat biting his thumbnail bloody until Merle reappeared and whistled and waved. "Bring them steaks in and the beer too. This place is ours tonight," Merle shouted. Daryl sighed and put the truck in park and began unloading their perishable goods from the grocery store while Merle prowled up and down the stairs poking his head into each room to be sure it was clear.

The water still ran, the power was still on so that night after locking up tight and deciding on who would take watch, they grilled their steaks on the gas grill on the back patio and settled into the chairs out there to eat. There was a pool just a few steps from the patio and the weather had been warm. Merle was speaking rudely of type of people that lived in these houses in these gated communities in between bites of his steak and swigs of whiskey. Daryl kept quiet, closing his mind off to Merle's ramblings and realized that now the years ahead might find them with better roofs over their heads, regular meals, better modes of transportation but Merle's bitterness and anger would never improve.


	28. Chapter 28

The Quarry

Merle and Daryl crouched in the woods, silently watching the group camped at the top of the quarry. Daryl glared at Merle as he gnawed angrily at his thumb.

"Fuck Merle, we been sittin' here watchin' 'em for three days now. Either we gonna join 'em or move on," Daryl griped.  
Merle shot Daryl an equally intense glare. "What's wrong Darylina, ya got a social engagement I don't know bout?" he snapped back.  
Daryl stood up and took a few steps back further into the woods. "Tired of settin' here waitin' for ya to make up yer mind what we're gonna do," Daryl gritted out, clenching and unclenching his hands.

Merle sprang up and advanced to a stop almost nose to nose with Daryl. "You have a better idea Darylina? I been the one makin' all the decisions for months now, so if you got a better idea of what our next move is by all means feel free to open yer damned mouth and spit it out," Merle snarled. Then Merle reached out and roughly shoved at Daryl.

Daryl staggered back a step or two and his face immediately flushed with pent up rage. Without thought of where they were or what their present situation was, Daryl swung his fist and connected solidly with Merle's jaw. Merle staggered back and stared briefly at Daryl in shock and surprise before launching himself at Daryl, throwing him down to the muddy and leaf strewn forest floor.

As they rolled about stirring up the mud and leaves, punches were thrown wildly back and forth connecting with meaty thumps.  
"You sorry bastard," Merle snarled as he pounded away at Daryl's face as Daryl lay pinned momentarily beneath him. He felt Daryl stiffen beneath him and as he paused he was thrown to the side suddenly and watched as Daryl sprang free and to his feet. Merle's stomach clenched as he immediately realized his error in calling Daryl that name-an extremely sore subject for Daryl due to their father's constant taunting.

Daryl's face was red, his clothes now muddied and torn, hair muddy and sticking up in filthy strands. His breath came in heavy gasps as he shook with rage.

"You take that back, goddam you Merle," Daryl snarled as he moved another step away.

Merle grimaced from where he'd landed on the ground. "Fuck brother, you know I don't mean it," Merle tried for a conciliatory tone. He needed Daryl cooperative if his plan to rob these folks blind was to be successful. Merle noted the shimmer of unshed tears in Daryl's eyes and knew instantly there would be no quick and easy truce this time. He'd foolishly crossed the line and would have to do a lot of making up to get his brother calmed down again. Something he didn't have the patience for right now.

They'd spent a month wandering around, staying in sumptuous houses, eating well for the first time in their lives from the abandoned stores and houses they'd scavenged. Then bad luck had hit two weeks ago-they'd been trapped by a large herd of walkers and had to hastily decamp leaving two weeks ago-they'd been trapped by a large herd of walkers and had to hastily decamp leaving all their scavenged and looted belongings in a large house they'd been squatting in. They'd barely made it out alive and Merle had been in a rage ever since. They'd been reduced to eating squirrel again and picking the leavings of trashed and looted stores and houses. They'd circled ever closer to Atlanta in hopes of finding a safe zone to regroup in.

To Merle's disgust Atlanta had proved to be a shitstorm of ransacked and looted burned out buildings, herds of walkers and very few opportunities to hole up comfortably and plan their next step. Then he'd spied a few other survivors and had followed them back to this quarry. Seeing this group he immediately seized on the idea of befriending them just long enough to gain their trust, then he and Daryl would steal the RV and take off again. The RV would be perfect as it could serve as a safer place to rest up in than the damn tents they'd stumbled across a few days ago.

Merle watched speculatively as Daryl paced agitatedly back and forth. A branch snapped behind them and he froze as he watched Daryl freeze in his tracks and look for his bow lying near them.

"Don't move," they heard, "I got a gun on you and I'll shoot if either of you move," the man continued.

Merle stifled a groan of dismay and raised his hands reluctantly in a show of surrender. He stood slowly and turned carefully toward the direction of the man's voice. Merle bit back a snort at the sight of the young Chinese kid advancing toward him shakily. He knew without a doubt he could easily snatch the gun out of the kid's hands, but held himself back knowing his plan would never work if he showed aggressiveness right off the bat.

Merle smiled his sweetest smile he could muster up. "Don't shoot young man. Ain't got nothin' to fear from us," he continued smoothly in his best used car salesman voice. "My brother and I were just about to step out and introduce ourselves," he continued, watching the kid carefully. The kids hands were shaking so badly he was likely to shoot either Daryl or himself by mistake. "That there is my brother Daryl and I'm Merle. Dixon. We're the Dixon brothers and we was just about to ask if we could join up with your group there," he explained soothingly.

The kid, who looked to be no more than twenty or so, jerkily nodded his head. "I'm Glen. Come out here with me and I'll let the group decide whether or not we want you joining us," he said breathlessly.

Merle nodded and without sparing a glance Daryl's direction he stepped slowly toward Glen and the direction he was pointing in. "Sure thing, Glen. We'll all step outta these woods here and have us an introduction to yer group and then pow wow bout what our next step is," Merle said, oozing sincerity and cordiality. He heard Daryl huff out a breath and stifled an impulse to yell at Daryl to shut the fuck up and not blow their chance. Pasting a smile on his face he continued forward under Glen's watchful gaze and prayed that Daryl had calmed down enough not to raise any suspicions when meeting the other members of the group.


	29. Chapter 29

Lets Start At The Beginning  
The group meets up with Merle and Daryl and the rest as they say is history. This concludes my version of Daryl's background. Hope you enjoyed it.

Merle squinted as the sun beat mercilessly down on them. True to his word, Glen had held the gun on them the short path to the camp he and Daryl had been watching and had left them to stand while the other members of the group had circled about he and Daryl. Merle gazed measuringly at each face and dismissed most of the group as lost souls lucky they hadn't been made into walkers already. Most of the group looked uncertain, uneasy and unsure of what they should do. All except one.

Merle cut his eyes in the direction of the one person he thought would give him trouble. Tall guy, lanky, military bearing. Smart mouth on him, but he looked like he could back his talk up. Shane, Merle had heard him called during the days he'd watched the small group. Shane would bear keeping an eye on.

He spared a quick glance beside him at Daryl and suppressed a sigh of impatience. Neither one of them were making a good first impression, but Daryl certainly wasn't helping the matter with that scowl on his face and his downcast eyes. Refusing to meet anyone's gaze and refusing to answer even the most basic questions. Never mind the fact that it was obvious to anyone who looked at them that they'd been fighting each other recently-both bruised up, clothes torn and filthy. Merle bit back a groan of disgust -his plan was ruined before he could even begin to put it into play.

Normally he would just say fuck it all and decamp hastily to move on and make another plan. But his temper was up due to Daryl's increasingly sullen attitude and now that they'd come to blows he was determined to show Daryl that he should never have questioned his plan. Merle came to a decision and immediately launched into a spiel about how they could offer the camp added protection because they were trackers and hunters as well as furnish the camp with much needed food from their hunting forays. He felt Daryl stiffen beside him and fought back the urge to kick Daryl into saying something, anything.

Shane nodded as he listened, his eyes taking his measure of the two men before him. He knew trouble when he saw it-and these two were definitely trouble. Although he had to admit that the camp did indeed need somebody with some knowledge of handling weapons and the ability to forage for food. These other men in the camp were absolutely useless. An old man, a black man, Hispanic man none of whom seemed fit for much physical exertion. Then you had the young Asian kid who'd probably blow his own foot off sometime soon. And that fat bully that couldn't be seen to do anything beyond yelling and slapping at his wife and kid.

Shane sighed in resignation, and glancing briefly at Lori he nodded his head. "Alright, we'll see how this works out. You two can make camp with us for now, but if there's even a hint of trouble from either one of you, you're outta here," Shane said loudly so everyone would be clear what terms these two were on with the group.

Merle summoned up a smile and nodded his head agreeably. "Sure thing. We'll pitch our tents right over yonder and me and my brother can start looking for some kinda meat for all of us-rabbit, squirrel, possum. Something to tide us all over until we get our bearings and can head out tomorrow for a more serious look for game." Merle bit back a sneer at the queasy looks on most of the groups faces at the mention of possum and squirrel. Give them time and they'd be hungry enough to eat anything he and Daryl could scavenge up-God knows he and Daryl had never been too proud to eat whatever they'd managed to scare up when they were hungry.

Shane nodded again and waved everyone to get back to whatever it is they'd been doing while Merle started off toward the area he'd picked out for their camp. He heard Daryl coming along behind him and blew out a sigh of relief. As he stopped he looked up at Daryl to see him scowling back.

"What's wrong baby brother? I just got us joined up with this little camp, seem like nice folks don't they? And there's safety in numbers, right?" Merle laughed quietly.

"Fuck you Merle. What the fuck are you up to? Thought you wanted to rob this camp, and now you're telling them we'll go huntin' for them? When we both know it'll be me doin' all the fuckin' trackin' and huntin'." Daryl huffed out a breath and glared at Merle suspiciously.

"That's still the plan little brother. I just had to improvise a little. Don't worry, won't be but a few days and we can cut outta here and go off somewhere else. Just play along, scare up a few squirrels or rabbits to pacify them, that's all I ask," Merle rasped. He reached out to tap Daryl's arm and Daryl jerked away.

"Don't fuckin' talk to me Merle. I'm goin' out and get my shit and go track somethin'," and with that Daryl strode off angrily in the direction they'd been hiding in.

Merle sighed and sat down on a log to light a cigarette. A few hours alone in the woods would clear Daryl's head and settle him down. Then they could discuss their plans. In the meantime, after he finished this smoke, he'd go retrieve their tent they'd scavenged a few days ago and start setting up their camp.

Merle had just finished setting up the tent and setting out some of the cookware they'd scavenged as well when Glen approached him.

"Hey Chinaman, what ya need?" Merle sneered.

Glen sighed impatiently. "I'm going into Atlanta with a few of the others to look around -see what we can find. We thought you might want to go," he trailed off, looking very uncomfortable and Merle could see that Glen was obviously hoping he would say no. He had no idea why then Glen had come over and extended such an invitation, but he certainly wasn't going to pass up an opportunity to go into Atlanta and see what he could scavenge. Daryl wouldn't be back for a while anyway and he didn't feel like sitting around waiting on his brother.

Merle jumped up and clapped Glen solidly on the back, causing Glen to wince. "Why sure boy, why not? I got some weapons that I need more ammo for, so sure I'll come along with you."

Glen nodded his head and suppressed a sigh. This had been Shane's idea, getting Merle out of camp so that if Daryl came back he would be alone and Shane could press him for more information about where the two had really come from and what they were really up to.

"Okay then, come on. Andrea, T-dog, and a few others are going along," Glen explained as he and Merle headed to the truck.

Shane looked at Lori. "One down, one to go. We just gotta wait til that younger brother gets back here," he said quietly as he glanced around the camp making a mental note of where each person was and what they were doing. Lori nodded back and leaned into Shane's side tiredly. He wrapped an arm around her and squeezed her lightly.

"Look on the bright side Lori, Glen and them might find something good in Atlanta to bring back," he said teasingly.

MistyKat Productions-a collaboration of both LizzieKat15 and Mistyeye/Bubblesbromleigh- is currently revising this story so we can post it as an EKindle version on Amazon. Obviously names and other details linking it to TWD will need to be changed. We hope you enjoyed our story and that you check out the revised version once it's posted on Amazon. We'll post an alert when it is indeed available. Thanks again for all the comments and reviews and positive support for this and our other works.


	30. Chapter 30

This story is now available as an ebook on Amazon under the title Bruised Souls. The authors have of course changed any names or settings that would tie it to TWD series. Please take a look and give us your opinion on the changes we've made.


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